


Take a Bite Out of the Silver Sandwich

by Jonaira



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Sports, Angst, Badass Toph Beifong, Banter, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Zuko (Avatar), Blood and Violence, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Companionable Snark, Dreams and Nightmares, Engineering, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gym Sex, Gyms, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insecure Sokka (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, It's aaalllll foreplay, Kissing, Laboratories, M/M, Martial Arts, Mixed Martial Arts, Mommy Issues, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Zuko (Avatar), Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Past Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Past Sokka/Yue (Avatar), Past Violence, Physics, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective Sokka (Avatar), Protective Zuko (Avatar), Psychological Trauma, Romance, Science Experiments, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Tea Parties, Tea Server Zuko (Avatar), Toph Being Awesome, Tournaments, Training, Trauma, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's Scar (Avatar)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25656265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonaira/pseuds/Jonaira
Summary: Sokka and Zuko both train at the same MMA gym.Zuko's lost his honour (nothing new there), so he enlists Sokka's superior skills of kick-assery to help him find it. Which comes with the unexpected bonus of now having a kick-ass buddy too.Featuring shady underground MMA rings, action of both the fist-poundy and fun-poundy kind, and too many unintended feelings that knock one down quick as any concussion.Sokka's sure there's a metaphor to be construed here somewhere, but he's too busy dodging hits right to the feels (and many more to his face) to bother looking.
Relationships: Aang & Katara & Sokka, Sokka & Suki (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Sokka & Zuko
Comments: 80
Kudos: 212





	1. A tale of Ba Sing Se

Aang had been around for some pretty big moments in Sokka's life - He was there when Sokka steered their catamaran from wrecking itself on a nasty stretch of rocky shoreline (fun times), he'd been there when Sokka lost his boomerang (oh man, his _boomerang_ ), and then got it back (Boomerang always comes back!) and he was there when Yue had left (Sokka still doesn't like to think about that)

(Ok so Aang wasn't around for that time Sokka got _really_ high off cactus juice, but he was with Sokka in spirit, which still counted)

"It's just weird not to have you around for Angry Gym Guy Who I May Or May Not Have A Crush On." Sokka tells Aang as he sprawls boneless and upside down on the sofa.

Aang grins toothily at him onscreen."So I'm guessing Angry Gym Guy Who You May Or May Not Have A Crush On is kind of a big deal ?"

"I meaaan," Sokka says as he tries to pull his socks on upside down without much success, "I've never really spoken to the guy, but he's already one of the best at the gym despite coming from out of nowhere a month back, yanno ? It's just weird that I've never seen him at one of the local MMA fights before. He seems like he's been around the block."

AGGWIMOMNHACO, as Sokka would abbreviate the dude as henceforth, seemed like he'd been around more than just the _block_. The guy was absolutely smokin', tall and ripped but lean in the way some of the quickest boxers Sokka knew were. And he just never fucking gave up. The dude had a mean set of moves on him, but even on the rare occasions he did hit the mat, he'd spring back to his feet in the ready stance, blowing his floppy hair out of his stupidly pretty eyes. For crying out loud, BSS was an MMA gym. Literally everyone there could bench press a sofa easy, and still AGGWIMOMNHACO managed to stand out.

The large burn scar swirling over the upper left part of his face only made the guy all the more distinctive. 

Sokka had seen the way the gazes of both men and women would linger appreciatively, right up until AGGWIMOMNHACO turned around and gave them a glimpse of his scarred side. The roving eyes would freeze then, embarrassed at being caught staring at the scar pulling tight over his bones. 

Sokka had watched for weeks now, fascinated at the way AGGWIMOMNHACO would simply hold his scared-off-admirers' gaze until they dropped eye contact and backed off. He'd even raised his one good eyebrow once when the gyms' resident playboy had tried to put the moves on him, and hot damn had Sokka wanted to laugh at Jet's expression when he realised that AGGWIMOMNHACO just wasn't playing.

The guy was clearly used to this sequence of events, unruffled as he'd calmly resumed wrapping his hands before starting on his warm up on the speed bag in the corner.

It's not like AGGWIMOMNHACO didn't spar with others at the gym; he was actually pretty willing for a good bout. The problem was that he also tended to wipe the floor with everyone he faced off against. Sokka had had it out for Jet ever since the guy had tried putting the moves on Katara, and Sokka was sure he'd ruptured something from trying to hold in the laughter when Jet had hit the mat after challenging AGGWIMOMNHACO. In fact, the only other person he'd seen who could actually hold her own against AGGWIMOMNHACO for any decent length of time was Mai.

Sokka didn't know Mai very well; she was incredibly goth, sported a permanent poker face, and was overall chill. He'd taught her baby brother Tom Tom a few basic moves at the gyms' Intro session for kids a couple of years back, and they'd exchanged a brief bro chin wave of recognition when she'd come to pick him up. That had been the full extent of his interaction with her.

And the thing is, Sokka had been itching for a good spar with AGGWIMOMNHACO for a while now. While Sokka wasn't the best, he could be pretty darn creative with his moves when he really wanted to win. Plus, he was scrappy. 

He'd been pulling longer and longer hours at the lab, and while Teo's dad was the best guide he could hope for (seriously, their joint paper on gas was gonna be so bomb when they published it), the man also pushed him to his limits. Sokka came to the gym to blow off steam, and right now, nobody looked like a better pressure valve than AGGWIMOMNHACO.

Ba Sing Se University's attached gym was huge, and open 24/7. It's how they could support so many fighters practicing round the clock, and Sokka loved their timings because he could come in at four in the morning when the moon was hanging cool and bright in the sky and still get in a good two hours before he had to be at the lab or get ready for classes.

And AGGWIMOMNHACO always came in at 6 am sharp, just as the sunlight would begin to crawl up the walls. 

Sokka hadn't always kept such insane hours, he liked sleeping in as much as the next person thank you very much; that was all Katara's fault. She'd always preferred working out at night and had dragged him along when she first found the place. Except Sokka fell in love with it too, loving the bustle and adrenaline in the air and he'd become a regular himself.

"Huh," said Aang, sounding thoughtful. "He's one of the best you say ?"

"Why, d'you know him ?" Sokka perked up. Aang possessed the labrador-like skill of making friends who'd probably die for him everywhere he went. Sokka suspected he was already on a first name basis with half the city.

"Does he have a burn scar on the left side of his face ?"

"That's the one," Sokka nods and Aang whistles. "You sure can pick them buddy. You definitely have a type - gorgeous and intimidating." 

"Whoa whoa whoa," Sokka makes a time out sign. "Exactly _how_ well do you know this guy ?" 

"Since about a little over a year now ? Zuko and I used to spar when I first joined. Lots of repressed anger, had this crazy hairdo complete with ponytail, probably blasted My Chemical Romance for his warm up. Wait no, _definitely_ blasted MCR, I snuck a look at his phone once. But he's a cool guy. You remember that time Appa got dognapped last year ?"

" _This_ was the dude who found and returned the fuzzball ?"

"Small world, right." Aang chuckled.

"Infact, shouldn't you be going to the gym right now Sokka?" His sister asks him as she pops up from behind Aang. 

Sokka clears his throat. "Looks like someone has a case of destination fever," he intoned deeply, finger sticking up to emphasize his point. "It's less about the _where_ and more about the _going_ ,"

Aang and Katara are laughing onscreen and man, Sokka misses them like crazy already even though they had just been gone a week.

"Chong and company getting to you ?" Aang giggles.

"Nah it's fine, I'm not expecting them back for at least another three months." 

Sokka had given up on pulling on his socks upside down and was hunting for his shoes.

He'd sometimes catch the beginning of AGGWIMOMNHACO- no, _Zuko's_ workout, even as he'd be warming down and hurrying up so he could get his notes in order for his 8 am class.

The three of them say their goodbyes, and then Sokka's jogging to the gym.

It's a pretty standard day - 

  * He oogles Zuko as surreptitiously as he can in the 15 minutes that their gym timings overlap
  * Goes to the lab
  * Takes the Physics 101 lecture
  * Despairs over the state of Tho and Due's grasp of fluid mechanics 
  * Tries to convince Huu to actively drop his physics class and switch to Intro to Ecology instead
  * Fails
  * Passes out grading papers at lunch
  * Jolts awake to Momo trying to steal his lunch
  * Tears down to the labs
  * Records his readings
  * Works on his latest paper for the Mechanist
  * Closes up at the lab-



No, wait. He doesn't close up at the lab today because Suki pulls him aside, looking apologetic.

"Sokka, I know how busy you are, and I'm so sorry to ask this of you but could you switch lab blocks with me ?"

Sokka's known Suki since orientation back in freshman year. They'd even gone steady for a few months until they figured they worked better as best buds and broke up.

"Is everything alright ?" He asks, concerned. Suki would never ask him for a favour unless she really needed it.

She nodded vigorously. "Professor Kyoshi accepted me as her TA!"

"Hell yeah she did. You're the best !" He grinned and Suki squeezes the breath out of him with the force of her hug.

"The only problem is I'm gonna have to switch my evening lab block. And you're the only person I can swap with."

"Yeah absolutely." He pats her shoulder. "Buy me a box of bean curd puffs from Madame Wu's and we'll call it even."

Sokka throws his arm around her shoulder as they head out, and firmly ignores the stupid little (massive) twinge that runs through him at the thought of having seen the last of Zuko now that he'll be working out in the evenings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Here's a playlist if anyone's interested. Y'all can probably tell which songs are meant for whom ;)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDDFWOHCemAFktUGYNzy018_vxAwoWkwb


	2. Introductions

It had been weeks before the bandages could come off.

A year before the scar had stopped itching.

Sometimes, it still takes staring at the mass of contracted, dull tissue in the mirror to convince himself that it's part of him.

Zuko breathes in, breathes out. Bides his time.

* * *

"Wolftail's looking at you again," Mai informs him smugly as she darts in close for a jab at his ribs, and Zuko grunts, stumbling on his backstep because what the hell is  _ Sokka _ doing at the gym at  _ this _ time of evening ? 

But sure enough, there he was in a corner warming up with stretches, wearing his ratty old  _ Meat and Sarcasm _ shirt. Sokka's blue gaze flits away quickly when Zuko catches his eye. 

Distracted as he is, Mai's next swing catches Zuko square on the jaw. 

"Think we're done for today, Mai" he wards her off, jaw clicking as he backs away.

Mai smirks at him, but uses her teeth to tug open the sealing of her glove.

"Maybe actually say something to him today." she suggests, and Zuko tries not to roll his eyes.

"Sure, and bison will fly." He muttered.

Mai looked unimpressed, but that was also her resting face, so he's not sure if it's really directed at him.

They duck out of the octagon, and Mai's nearly done unwrapping her hands when she fixes him with a Look™.

"You need to be pragmatic about this, Zuko. He'd make a decent sparring partner at the very least, and you  _ know _ you can't train alone."

"And you coming here to train with me on the side is only going to make Azula more vicious when she finds out. I know." Zuko sighed.

Mai had been helping him with his training ever since he'd told her about him planning to enter the Sozin's Championship. She'd been keeping it quiet because Azula would probably go up in flames ( _ 'Really Mai, you'd waste your time on  _ Zuzu _ over there but not train with  _ me _? _ ') were she to find out, but with the tournament drawing closer, Mai simply wouldn't be able to juggle coming all the way across town to Ba Sing Se to help Zuko while also training with Azula simultaneously.

He walked her to the door, chest heavy knowing this would be the last time he'd get to see her in a while. Mai had already done him too many favours, and he didn't want to be the cause for a rift between Mai and his sister.

"Maybe Iroh might be willing to get back into the ring again, huh ?" He tries to joke, and Mai pulls out of their goodbye hug prematurely to narrow her eyes at him.

"There's wishful thinking Zuko and then there's just being plain unrealistic. You know he's hung up his gloves for good. Man up, and go ask your boy." She poked him in the chest.

"He's not my anything," Zuko muttered, hailing a cab for her.

"Yet," Mai tells him just as smugly as before.

* * *

It's one of the quieter evenings at the gym, with not more than ten others spread out across the huge floor.

When he gets back in, Zuko heads over to the weight bag which is free for once and systematically works out all the tension that's been steadily twisting his nerves over the past few weeks. Ever since the Blue Spirit had been invited to compete in Sozin's Championship.

He's just about fallen into a rhythm when someone steadies the bag for him on the other side. Zuko looks up to thank them and then freezes with his mouth open halfway.

"So, you training to beat the Avatar or something ?" Sokka asks him cheerfully.

Zuko's too surprised by the question to reply, and Sokka apparently takes that as invitation to elaborate further on his reasoning.

"I mean, not to trying to pry or anything but do you spend all your spare time working out here? Because you're literally the only person I know who train's at both six in the morning and in the evening as well." he barrelled on, sounding a tad sheepish now.

"Something like that," Zuko settles for answering. After all, Sozin's Championship was an invitation-only,  _ highly _ illegal underground MMA tournament. The name or information about it's very existence wasn't something bandied about in casual conversation.

"Oh," says Sokka. ”That's cool."

The slightly awkward silence between them lasts for maybe another 5 minutes before Sokka starts talking again.

"I've been meaning to ask actually," Sokka begins and Zuko looks up in surprise because Sokka wanting to talk to  _ him _ was news alright.

"I've been here at Ba Sing Se for a few years now, competed in some local events, but I've never actually seen you around at those, y'know ?"

Sokka shrugged as well as one could while holding a punching bag steady. "And then you show up here at BSS, out of the blue and proceed to kick people's ass like it's no man's business, so I figure you aren't new to the scene."

Zuko took a break from pummeling the bag and wiped his sweaty face with a corner of his t-shirt. "I've been coming to BSS for the last two years now. Just not around the same time as you except since last month." 

Sokka nodded in acceptance of that fact, as if Zuko had only confirmed something he'd already suspected. "And maybe I  _ have _ fought in the local tourneys, and you just didn't recognise me," Zuko pointed out. 

He hadn't. 

He hadn't seen the  _ inside _ of a gym for 3 years after the  _ Incident _ . It was only on Iroh's coaxing that he'd even started light training again a couple years back. But with Sozin's coming up, and the invite going out to him (and he had a decent suspicion as to who had sent it in the first place), something had shaken loose in his chest and had reignited that sleeping ember within him to prove himself, to earn back his rightful place. His honour. He was helpless to all but feeding it now, making it glow white hot.

Sokka laughed. "Believe me," he said shaking his head,"there's no way I'd have not recognised  _ you _ ."

And  _ there _ it was. Zuko bristled, temper flaring. "Not presumptuous of you at all to assume I've always been marked," he snapped, pointing at his scar, because isn't that the first thing and  _ only _ thing people remembered about him now ? The way they'd eyeball him like he was some sort of sideshow, even approaching to get a closer look until he himself stared them down. He'd gotten used to it over the last five years, but it never stopped being distasteful.

Sokka had dropped the bag, hands coming up to shake just as vigorously as his head.

"No no no ! Please, that's not what I meant!"

The genuine panic and dismay on Sokka's face gives Zuko pause enough to stop and hear him out.

"It's your style of fighting really," Sokka says looking massively relieved that Zuko's listening."People who've trained here have more of a Hung Gar base style. I see it all time, so you immediately stand out because you're more like,  _ Everybody was kung fu fighting ! Da Da ta da da ta da!"  _ He sings, even adding in a little jig.

Despite Zuko's previous ire, Sokka's clumsy earnestness is… oddly endearing.

"Northern Shaolin style, right ?" Sokka asked, and Zuko nodded, impressed.

Sokka beamed back. "See that's sort of my thing. I'm the ideas and analysis guy. And since you don't fight like anyone here, I couldn't help wondering where was it that you'd first trained."

He isn't being subtle at all, the way he looked hopeful for Zuko's answer, but this conversation with Sokka was also the longest he'd ever had with anyone here at BSS except for maybe Aang, and that was ages ago. Nobody he'd had a bout with here had ever cared enough to ask where had he trained before either and Zuko finds he wants to keep the conversation going inspite of himself.

"Have you heard of Ozai's ?" He tells Sokka and watches the boy's jaw drop.

"Hold up, that one where you gotta sell your soul for membership ? Or maybe a kidney or two? The exclusive place across town that only stuck-up rich brats train at ?"

"Funny how that happens when the owner is your father," Zuko tells him dryly, and Sokka looks like he wants to swallow his tongue.

"I don't usually spend so much time with my own foot in my mouth," Sokka tells him weakly after a long pause.

"So what, I'm special ?" Zuko teases. He can't help it, Sokka looked so dejected.

"I'll just go find a hole and maybe fall down it head first," Sokka says as he begins to walk away, jerking a sad thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of  _ Anywhere But Here.  _

Zuko snickered and grabbed Sokka's bicep to stop him from leaving. "I'm just yanking your tail buddy," he grinned. "You weren't wrong about anything you said." Zuko was gratified to see Sokka brighten up.

"But you still need to make it up to me." Uncle Iroh would be proud of him, he thinks. That was smooth.

At Sokka's look of hesitant confusion, Zuko jerked his chin towards the empty octagon. "Best of five," he smiled.

* * *

Zuko's blood is singing. He's not enjoyed himself in a fight this much since...he doesn't remember.

Fighting had always been about winning, or at least that's what he'd been taught as a child. Under Uncle Iroh, that had changed to being about perfecting his techniques and balance. Learning to actually read his opponent and make the most efficient set of moves to counteract them. 

But  _ fun _ wasn't something Zuko had ever associated with sparring in the ring.

Fighting Sokka was fun. Dizzyingly so.

The boy was quick on his feet, dancing out of the way of Zuko's harder hits and rolling with them when he couldn't move fast enough, using the opportunity to come in close for his next hit instead.

Sokka bounced off the ropes, weaving and ducking and leaving himself tantalizingly open, as if inviting Zuko closer to try and land a hit.

It's tempting, but Zuko can see the calculating look in his eye, the way he tenses just so, and Zuko knows the moment he gets closer Sokka will come in with a clinching manouevre of his own.

When Sokka wins the first round, he doesn't look happy or surprised, the way anyone else might. He looked like he was picking apart everything he'd learned about Zuko's style and was already two steps ahead trying to figure out what Zuko  _ hadn't _ shown.

Zuko takes the 2nd and 3rd rounds with no fanfare.

Sokka fights intelligently, always trying to predict Zuko's moves and adjust his own, but in the end, Zuko had been training since the time he could walk. 

He wins the 4th round too and Sokka huffs his laughter, out of breath.

"You've won, but wanna see this thing through anyway ?" He offers Zuko, and there was no way Zuko was turning down another round with this boy.

He takes his stance, and then they're at it again.

Zuko was distantly aware of the small crowd of onlookers they'd gathered, but he only had eyes for Sokka.

The other boy circled him, wolflike as he looked for an opening. Zuko darted in and tried an experimental jab, which Sokka deflected easily. Something seemed to shift in him then, and Sokka came in like a hurricane, letting go the way he hadn't in the first four rounds.

Zuko could barely fend him off, sight blocked by his arms up to protect his face against the flurry of blows Sokka was raining down on him.

He's still focusing on keeping his footing when Sokka launches into a grapple, bringing them both down onto the mat before locking Zuko's joints into a firm pin.

Zuko struggled for a few seconds, before tapping out.

Sokka pulled him to his feet, breathing hard but grinning like the cat who'd got the canary.

"Where did  _ that _ come from ?" Zuko panted, tossing Sokka his bottle of water and reaching for his own at the edge of the ring.

Sokka only mimed blowing smoke off his gloves.

"I don't get it," Zuko frowned leaning against the ropes. "I'm faster than you, I'm stronger than you, and I've been training my whole life. You shouldn't have been able to even land those last few hits."

Sokka snorted, still breathing hard. "Modest, much ?"

Zuko blushed but didn't back down from his point. "Don't go fishing for compliments now. You know you're good, but I'm better. Or, at least that's the case on paper. So how did you do that at the end ?"

Sokka bristled, but he also seemed to realise that Zuko wasn't actually trying to piss him off. At least not actively. Zuko had been told in the past he had a talent for rubbing people the wrong way.

"Because I don't have to be stronger or faster than you. I just gotta use it against you." Sokka wipes his face on his sleeve.

Zuko's eye narrowed and he crossed his arms. "That's exactly what my Uncle Iroh says to me."

"Well he's a smart dude, and he's right." Sokka clicked his tongue. "You're all about the attack. Quick, hard strikes but no defense whatsoever. Your whole style hinges on taking down your opponent as fast as possible, while ignoring your defense. It's making you predictable, especially since you're favouring your left side."

"You could say it's a blind spot of mine." Zuko says wryly, and Sokka chuckles. 

"Nah, I've seen you easily kick the asses of fighters who had both  _ their _ eyes working. Not that it did them much good when facing off against you." he sniggered, and Zuko cracks a small smile. "Well, I've shown you mine. What style are  _ you _ using ? I've never seen it before."

"It's called Sokka style, deal with it!" He cackled and Zuko only rolled his eyes good naturedly.

They're nearly through with their cool down when Sokka says, "I'll admit I was something of a martial arts chauvinist when I first started fighting." He doesn't look proud of it, and Zuko senses a story there."I used to think that the more defensive styles were better suited for women, since they weren't as strong as guys. That they'd need to try to beat their opponent while staying as far out of their striking range as possible."

Zuko raised an eyebrow, taking the non-sequitur into stride. "How'd that work out for you ?"

Sokka smiled in fond remembrance. "Got my ass handed to me on multiple occasions by Suki. Ah, good times." He wiped an imaginary tear. "She was the first person who taught me how to fight effectively."

He tugged Zuko's arm up in front of him as if to mimic a punch. Zuko complied, settling into a ready stance, and then aiming a quick couple of crosses at him.

"The trick is," Sokka grunted, "to get in as close as possible," and he grabbed Zuko's outstretched arm and whirled while stepping in close so that for a split second, he was pressed from shoulder to hip against the warmth of Zuko's chest, "so that I can use my opponents' weight against them." Sokka flipped him down hard onto the mats.

"My congratulations to Suki," Zuko gasped, winded. "Getting in close is an excellent idea." Zuko levelled his gaze at Sokka and he's not sure if he'd imagined the quick flash of heat in Sokka's's eyes as he helped him up.

Zuko stretched out the shoulder that Sokka had twisted. "You sell yourself short, you know." He told Sokka quietly.

Sokka shrugged. "I've made my peace with the fact that I'm never gonna be the strongest fighter out there. But that doesn't mean I can't give 'em hell." he grinned. "It's about letting my defense become my offense."

Zuko runs a hand through his mess of floppy hair, squinting at Sokka. "Seriously, you sound just like Iroh. Are you sure the two of you haven't met ?"

Sokka zipped up his bag and hoisted it onto his shoulder. "Pretty sure I'd win a lot more often if I'd been lucky enough to be taught by  _ that _ guy. What an absolute legend," he said fervently.

Zuko looked away, jaw clenched. 

_ She was born lucky, you were lucky to be born.  _

He visciously shoved the old refrain back into the mental box he refused to look inside. "It's not about luck. You either give your sweat and blood and make your own luck, or get chewed up and spit out by the world."

Sokka realized he'd hit a nerve and watched in dismay as Zuko ducked under the ropes.

"Zuko, that's not what I meant," he tried. "I'm just saying, Iroh  _ 'The General' _ is sort of worshipped around here. An unbroken streak of 600 consequetive wins ?" Sokka whistled. "It's everyone who's trained here's dream to go a few rounds with the man, maybe pick up some tricks from him. And honestly, going up against you comes pretty damn close to that," Sokka smiled tentatively at him.

Zuko softened. How could he stay annoyed at someone who recognised how incredible Uncle Iroh was ?

"I'll let him know that," Zuko replied gruffly.

"Annnd there you go again, just casually dropping in how you actually hang out with a living legend." Sokka grinned.

Zuko leaned into the joke. "Maybe I could invite you the next time," he smirked back and Sokka shook his head. "Don't get a guy's hopes up like that."

Zuko had no idea what had come over him that evening, leaving him feeling so oddly carefree around Sokka. "Beat me best out of three and I promise to throw in an autographed pair of his old gloves too," he laughed.

"You're yanking my tail again, aren't you ?" Sokka drawled.

Zuko out a hand over his heart. "Scouts honour."

Sokka grinned. "Fine, but I'll feel bad kicking your ass."

* * *

There's a pleasant sort of burn in Zuko's muscles when they finish for the evening. He hadn't pushed himself this hard in a long time, and Zuko revelled in the bone deep satisfaction it brought.

"So how much functional vision do you have in your left eye ?" Sokka asked, dropping his towel into his bag. "Because while that's the only opening you leave, it's kind of a big one."

Zuko grimaced. "About 50%. You can't tell, but I've got a heat cataract. The eye is functional enough for regular day to day stuff, but it's tougher in a fight when I have to track much faster movements."

"The way you fight and compensate for it, I'm guessing you've been dealing with it for a while now. Why not just get surgery ?"

Zuko shrugged. "Don't have the money for it."

Sokka blinked in confusion, and Zuko took pity on him.

"If you're thinking I'm loaded, what with Ozai being my father and all, that's not the case anymore. It hasn't been for a while. I'm cut off from all funds, accounts anything in my name really, and if Uncle Iroh hadn't taken me in, I'd have been on the streets."

Sokka's face had gone from looking stunned to vaguely sickened.

"Please don't tell me this had anything to do with how you got your scar. Please don't let this leap of logic be correct."

"A parting gift, courtesy of dear old Dad." Zuko laughed mirthlessly.

"Tell me you pressed charges and there's a shitty but wholly expected reason the guy isn't rotting in a cell right now," Sokka fumed.

"Pressed charges how ? My 17 year old ass dragging him to the police station would have worked out so well." Zuko scoffed. "Sokka, I woke up in the burns unit two days later with no other possessions to my name anymore but the hospital gown I was wearing. I wasn't even allowed back in the house. Uncle was the one who paid all my medical bills and helped me get my GED when I had to leave school because what do you know, my father had stopped paying tuition too."

Sokka shook his head in disbelief. "Where was your mother in all of this ?"

Zuko had to speak past the involuntary tightening of his throat. "She'd already been gone a few years at this point."

Sokka looked away. "I'm sorry to hear that." He looked like he wanted to say more, but settled for biting his lip Instead.

Zuko studied Sokka. There was something about the guy that had just made Zuko open up and reveal more about himself than he had with anyone who hadn't known him as a kid. It's oddly humbling, to feel so exposed. Yet not unsafe, or vulnerable. He barely knew the boy, but Sokka struck him as trustworthy. Somebody good to have in his corner. It had been hammered into Zuko from a young age to always look before he'd leap. To calculate and pin down every stray possibility until he and only he shaped his own narrative and left nothing to chance.

Sokka makes him want to take a leap of faith instead.

Zuko took a deep breath.

And then he jumped.

"Tell me," he asked Sokka, "what would you happen to know about highly illegal, secret underground tournaments ?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea about MMA and it's conventions and rules beyond that of a couple of Youtube videos of guys getting beaten to a pulp.  
> Readers who understand/practice MMA, please suspend your disbelief for this work


	3. Toph Decisions

"-and then he just invited me to be his F-buddy!" Sokka whisper-ranted.

"Fuck buddy ?" Toph raised an eyebrow.

" _Fight_ Buddy" He corrected. "Well partners, really. At a tournament."

"Then why are you still whispering ? It's 2020 Snoozles, not like anyone cares if SOKKA HAS A FUCK BUDDY Y'ALL!" the little gremlin hollered to the street at large, garnering several disturbed looks while Sokka did his best impression of being blind (to those looks) as well. 

They've left the worst of the staring and giggling and pointing behind them when he feels safe enough to say, "Because Angry Gym Guy Who I Now Definitely Have Crush On asked me out on a semi-regular recurring date to whale on other guys at an illegal underground tournament that I'm not supposed to talk about in _public_ !"

"Wow," drawled Toph."You're taking this calmly."

Sokka rolls his eyes even though he knows the expression is lost on her.

"I'm just saying, there's no helpful Reddit thread with answers on how to deal with this particular situation." Sokka threw an arm around her shoulders as they crossed the street and walked into the tiny tea shop she'd picked to hang out at.

"And you don't get to judge me for taking life advice from Reddit, since instead of answers all _you've_ provided me with so far is mild public humiliation."

"Sure," Toph sniffed. "Because one either shells out for therapy, or you tell yourself it be that way sometimes and head straight over to the r/NoStupidQuestions sub."

Sokka flicked one of the bobbles that dangled from her ever-present hairband fondly. "I don't tell you this often enough Toph, but you're truly the other half to my melon."

"Let's keep it PG-13, Snoozles, I don't think the world is ready for our sort of passion." She punched him in the bicep.

The slightly bitter, pleasant scent of tea washed over Sokka like the gentle lighting of the shop. He'd never been much of a tea guy, but for some reason the smell of a brewing pot had always calmed him since as long as he could remember.

Toph smiled as she heard his deep inhale. "Nice, isn't it ? I love coming here."

Evidently, the feeling was mutual seeing how the older gentleman behind the counter who Sokka assumed to be a higher-up of some sort beamed and immediately made his way over to them.

"Miss Beifong," he greeted her, gently clasping Toph's hand in both of his own. "I woke up with a feeling that today would be a good day, and look how the universe proved me right."

Toph chuckled as she shook his hand. "Always a pleasure, Iroh."

Sokka liked this guy immediately. There was something incredibly familiar about him, but Sokka couldn't put his finger on _what_ exactly. His whole vibe was so...wholesome.

"And you've bought company too! Maybe we shall have another tea lover on our conscience after today evening, hmm ?" Iroh loosed a crinkle-eyed smile upon Sokka before he let out a full-bellied guffaw, leading them to what was clearly Toph's regular table. It's tucked into the corner of the already small shop and almost invisible from the main body, but there's a little shelf put up on the wall besides it that holds a couple of books which Sokka recognises from Toph's meagre collection of books in braille. Like it had been set aside just for her, a permanent place in the shop.

"Iroh brews the best tea I've ever had. And he's the owner of the Jasmine Dragon." Toph gestures expansively, making introductions. "And this," Toph grinned at the old man's chin,"is my seeing-eye Sokka." 

"Hey !"

"I only call him that to make him feel more useful since I get around fine without him. But don't tell him that," Toph stage whispered to Iroh, who only twinkled at Sokka as he offered him a menu.

Sokka didn't even look at the menu, knowing he'd be hopelessly lost when it came to ordering tea. He cleared his throat, busy trying to kick Toph under the table. "What would you recommend, me being the tea equivalent of a country bumpkin and all ?" he asked Iroh, trying not wince when she nailed him instead. 

"Well the house special is a nice pot of jasmine, but maybe you'd like something that helps with bruises instead ?" Iroh rocks back on his heels and very subtly flicks his eyes to under the table, where Sokka's now abused leg rests.

What an imp, Sokka thinks delightedly. No wonder Toph loves the guy. "That would be great, thank you. I didn't even know there _was_ a tea for that sort of thing."

"It is my own special brew. Something I perfected back in the days when I was fighting to win titles, and not hearts." He winked at Sokka.

The bell rang, announcing somebody new coming into the shop. "Ah, if you could both please excuse me.Your usual Toph ?" Iroh checked.

"You got it, Iroh." She nodded.

"Excellent. My nephew will be here with your tea shortly." He bustled off to see to the new customer.

Sokka was too busy staring after him to listen to the next thing Toph said, his gears turning.

Toph kicked him again. "-did you even hear me ?"

"Hear what ?" He rubbed absently at his leg. "Toph, is he who I think he is ?"

"That really depends on how many Iroh's you know," she interjects.

"The Dragon of the West ? _The General_ Iroh ?" He clarified. "Only the greatest fighter ever to wipe the mat with someone in the history of Ba Sing Se?" It couldn't be, could it ?

"The one and only," she nodded. "Do you need a paper bag to breathe into ?"

"Oh my god” Sokka whispered to himself. "A living legend is making me tea in the backroom right now. What is my _life_?”

Then a horrible thought occurred to him. Iroh had mentioned his _nephew_ would be serving them soon - _what_ were the chances that this nephew was Zuko ? Like, maybe Iroh had more nephews ? Some niece's too ? It was possible wasn't it ? Anyway, Zuko didn't seem the type to be picking up shifts in a teashop.

Zuko, who he had been avoiding since the last 3 days while he thought over his answer. Seriously, Sokka barely missed going to the gym and here he'd skipped out for three days straight.

Zuko, who was now walking out of the backroom, two pots and cups balanced on a tray.

Zuko, wearing an apron that read, _Leaf me alone, I'm bushed._

Sokka would have died of tea aspiration if he'd been drinking the stuff. As it was, he choked on his own spit.

"We need to leave," Sokka wheezed, eyes streaming as Toph thumped his back. "Like _right now_."

"Are you kidding ? We just got here ! Plus I can smell my pot on its way." Toph slapped his back extra hard.

It's too late then, because Zuko's at their table laying down coasters and the kettles near silently, and he's pouring them steaming cupfulls.

Sokka twitched, wondering if he dared look up.

He took the risk; Zuko nodded at him without ceremony, like Sokka coming in was a regular event and he hadn't been left hanging for days now.

"Enjoy your drinks," Zuko says quietly, and then he's gone.

The tension suddenly drained out of Sokka. Now, he just felt like an ass.

"You want to tell me what that was all about ?" Toph reached for her cup, raising an eyebrow. "Sounded like you'd seen a ghost."

Sokka scowled. "That would have been preferable. Chuck a little salt at them, and poof!" He sighed. " _That_ was Zuko."

"Huh," Toph slurped her tea. "Should have figured he was an MMA guy."

"Hold on, you know him too ?" Was Sokka the only one out of their gang who hadn't interacted with Zuko prior to the gym ?

"I knew _of_ him," Toph stirred some honey into her cup. "Iroh talks about his nephew a bunch, but he'd never mentioned him by name. But the guy walks like a fighter, on the balls of his feet, you know ? I never hear him coming even when he's serving me."

Toph wrinkled her nose. "Why, who else knows him ?"

Sokka took a sip from his own cup. It was excellent. "Aang knows him from BSS."

Toph waved an airy hand. "Twinkletoes knows _everyone_ and their grandma. I'll come for your first born if you tell them, but actually I kinda miss him, even Sugar Queen." She said a little wistfully. "Even you're only fun in comparison to those two." Toph grinned at him.

"Love you too, you dirt monkey." He shook his head at her. 

They catch up on each other's life; Toph was considering switching from her earth sciences course to criminal psych instead. Sokka had just about started working on his thesis.

"Alright, enough of the boring, regular people stuff. That wasn't why we're meeting today." Toph clapped her hands. "Tell me more about your potential deal with the devil."

"He's not really the _devil_. More like a Fury who got on the wrong bus and ended up in Whoville instead. Y'know, cause he's always angry." Sokka mused out loud.

"Jeez, Sokka, spare me the details of your DTF-with-a-demon kink. I'm rolling my eyes at you right now," she said flatly, her hazy gaze fixed on his teacup. "But either way, let me get this straight. You're telling me that he just info-dumped about Sozin's and asked you to be partners and that was it ? No further details ? No offered incentive to partner with him, monetary or otherwise ?"

Sokka scratched the fuzzy back of his head. He'd need to shave soon.

"It wasn't like that exactly. Zuko was willing to answer any questions I had. Even sent me the links to these unlisted playlists on YouTube of some of the old fights from the tournament."

The thing that had bugged him the most was how little he could find about Sozin's online. It was almost as if participants and spectators were sworn to secrecy. The sheer lack of information was worrying, and he had his misgivings about _just_ how illegal it was. Sokka loved a good, harmless scam from time to time. He and Toph had bonded majorly over the poundy-poundy machine one they'd run back in his sophomore year (Toph was freakishly strong, and ableist assholes made the best marks). 

But this seemed downright criminal, if all the layers of secrecy were to be analysed.

Zuko had promised to answer any questions he might have had- the problem was that Sokka needed to know the _right_ questions to ask in the first place.

And to _have_ questions, he first needed information about his source material.

Toph steepled her fingers and waited for him to continue. 

"I wanted to do my own research before making a decision. Maybe he's sent me biased info. Maybe it's all just a big joke and I'll get rickrolled when I click on those links. I don't know."

Toph frowned. "I thought you liked the dude."

"Fascinated by him, sure. Insanely and bafflingly attracted to him, absolutely. Trust him blindly ? No.

I want to be absolutely sure I know what it is that I'm signing up for."

"And you came to me," Toph smirked.

"I came to you." Sokka unconsciously tapped out the Morse code for _yes_ on the table, an extra layer of affirmation for her. "The foremost and also only expert I know on underground cage fighting rings."

Toph looked momentarily smug, before her expression morphed to thoughtfulness.

"I don't know all that much, but I hear things." 

She snickered, "Well more than most people. For example, you wouldn't believe how interesting the conversation around _here_ gets."

"We need to work on your eavesdropping issues," he tells her, highly amused. There's a reason why Toph was believed (not wrongly) to be omnipresent.

"Take for example those four old dudes in the corner there." Toph jerked her chin to where a group of grey haired gentlemen were clustered around a complicated looking board game. Now that he was paying attention, Sokka could hear the soft click of tiles moving as they played. "They're regulars here, and I'm telling ya, those dude's are either part of some kind of supersecret society, or they're _really_ passionate about flower arrangement."

"I assume you're getting to a point here," Sokka asked her dryly.

Toph shrugged. "My point _is_ , anything I can tell you about Sozin's is probably just as nebulous as something Zuko could cook up. Everything is open to interpretation, really because I don't know anyone who's personally been a part of it."

"It's still better than nothing," Sokka pointed out.

"If you insist." Toph wiggled in her seat like she was getting ready to tell a particularly spicy story. "It's like if the MMA scene had a dark net, the Sozin's Championship would be the front page."

"That's not quite how the dark web work-" Sokka felt it important to communicate before she cut him off. 

"It's impossible not to hear whisperings about it, but like you told me, very hush-hush. And for good reason. Jungle law prevails more than anything and fighters advance based on how many bets they can pull in."

Sokka's fingers clenched around his cup. This wasn't sounding good.

"So even if one doesn't win the round, but gathers enough money they could still be in the running ?" He asked her. Toph picked at her ear. "That's something you should ask your boyfriend, Snoozles, I really can't comment. Another thing - participation is by invitation only. It's how they can keep the circle closed nice and tight."

She looked uncharacteristically serious. "It would be worth finding out how exactly Zuko is connected to the organisers to be invited in the first place. He can extend the invitation to you since he's got his own."

Sokka knew _exactly_ how Zuko was connected to the organisers but chose to hold his tongue. It wasn't his information to repeat, especially since it didn't actually change his decision making process.

"What's the deal with the partnership thing though ?" Sokka asked, trying to change the subject. "I mean, MMA is pretty much the definition of single player mode."

At this Toph outright laughed. "First rule of underground fighting rings, my sweet summer child - can't have the _fun_ without the _fun_ ding." She cracked her knuckles. "If Sozin's is anything like Earth Rumble VI, it's more of a bread and circuses type of deal. Meleé fighting whips up a crowd good because suddenly, it's a multiplayer battle royale which is excellent for pulling in crowds cause everyone's got a favourite in the ring, plus it gets more exposure for upcoming players too. Frenzied crowds equal money, always."

"I don't get it though," Sokka shook his head. "How do you even decide a winner like that ? Last guy standing ? The dude with the most knockouts ?"

She leaned back in her chair, balancing on its back two legs. "Honestly, imagine the most entertaining way and it'll probably be that. You've gotta understand Snoozles, these things are less about skills and more about what's the most visually dramatic spectacle possible to create. Not that I understand the draw," she grinned. "But it would make sense that Sozin's allowed team-ups - two fighters with their individual fanbases would draw in more bets. Plus it sort of fits with the general theme of lawlessness, doesn't it ? Makes for more overall bloody but entertaining showdowns."

"That's just messed up." Sokka shuddered. He looked away, and caught sight of Zuko clearing a table. 

The guy moved with an economy of motion, efficient even when doing something as mindless and mundane as picking up crockery. The sunlight slanting through the glass windows caught his profile, softening his edges and gleaming off the gold thread in his uniform. Sokka found it difficult to superimpose the image of this unassuming tea shop waiter with the same guy who he'd seen kick a 160 pound bag six feet down its suspension line without breaking a sweat.

And like the tea shop waiter image hid the equally true one of the fighter, Sokka couldn't help wondering what else Zuko may have been hiding.

He didn't want to become a pawn in someone's game, but at the same time Sokka had gotten the feeling that Zuko's request/offer had been genuine. The guy really did want to team up with him. Or his ulterior motive (because there _always_ was one) wasn't sinister at the very least.

"Hear him out first, Sokka." Toph advised, reading his silence as if he'd spoken out loud. He really couldn't have asked for a better friend, he thought mushily. 

"You can always say no if you need to. But don't go into this half-cocked, or abandon it completely for that matter."

"What makes you think I should trust him ?" Sokka almost never doubted Tophs' instincts about people. She had an uncanny knack for knowing when someone was lying and therefore who was untrustworthy. But Toph hadn't been there that day in the gym to hear Zuko either.

"Iroh," she said simply. "I don't doubt anything that man says. And he has this unshakeable belief in the inherent goodness of his nephew, even if Iroh concurs that Zuko still needs to work on his puppy-and-rainbow farting abilities. So he can't be all that bad to hear out once."

"Zuko strikes me more as the type to actually be allergic to the heart emoji," Sokka muttered.

"Eh," Toph shrugged. "I'd be too if I were expected to be shooting fluffy infant canids and diffraction phenomena out of my ass."

Sokka thumped his head against the cool wood of the table. "Decisions decisions."

"Well, the moolah per round might help with that dilemma. Are you gonna finish your pot ?" She asked helpfully. Sokka poured out the last of his tea into her cup before he returned to attempting the creation of a dent in the wood using nothing but the power of his head. And then froze when he registered the meaning of her words.

"Come again ?"

"Only if you really put your back into it, Snoozles." 

Usually, he'd never pass up an opportunity to quip back, but this was news he needed a full-page feature spread on _right_ now. He nudged her gently.

"C'mon Sokka, did you seriously think that the fighters wouldn't get paid at something like this? Even guys like _The Gecko_ can pull in about half a grand on a good night at Earth Rumble."

"Per round ?" He goggled.

"In _cash_." The legs of her chair thudded down back onto the floor, emphasising her point.

"Sozin's is a big deal. And the further you advance, the more the earnings would be."

Sokka stole a sip from her cup. "What would I even do with the money ? What do _other_ fighters do with all that money ?"

"Pay hospital bills mostly," she snorted. "Still, bold of you to assume you'd get that far into the competition to actually be pulling in big bucks. Of course," she said slyly, "you'd have a much better chance if you _were_ partnering up with Wing Chun Waiter over there."

Sokka levelled (a totally wasted) look at her. "Why do I get the feeling that you _really_ just want to get me landed in the hospital so you can wheel in the most embarassing get well soon gift ever ?"

"You see right through me." She deadpanned. Toph flung her arms out expansively, nearly whacking the loaded tray out of a passing Zuko's hands. It wobbled dangerously as he spun and sidestepped, but didn't spill a drop. Zuko only paused to spare the two of them a scowl before he was heading off to wherever he'd been going originally.

Toph was still continuing, oblivious to the accident she'd nearly caused. "Huh, excellent reflexes," she mused.

Or maybe not so oblivious. 

"I'm pretty sure you'd get away with no broken bones if partnering with _this_ guy."

It would have been much easier if Zuko were less of an enigma. If there was one thing Sokka couldn't resist, it was a good mystery. And the tournament itself plus Zuko thrown into the mix was going to keep him up nights if he didn't get more answers somehow.

He needed more time to make a decision.

"So you're telling me you learnt _all_ this from just keeping your ears open at Earth Rumble VI ?" He tried to distract his mind from going around in circles about saying yes to Zuko. "Might have to start tagging along with you to some of the matches." He joked.

Toph shuddered delicately. "Please no. I've got a reputation to maintain."

"Hey ! Being spotted with me would _boost_ your street cred. Probably. Possibly. I hope."

At her unimpressed look, Sokka sighed. "Or maybe we could just stick to hanging out here and attempting to imbibe secondhand wisdom from one of the greatest erstwhile fighters of the MMA world ?" 

"While his nephew and the object of your bisexual awakening serves me tea on the house, yep." 

Sokka lamented internally.This was _not_ what was meant when they said _Spill the bisexuali-tea._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suspend disbelief suspend disbelief suspend disbelief


	4. Uncertainty

Once he dropped Toph home post his  _ very _ enlightening tea date, Sokka decided to be productive with the remainder of his rare free evening- vegging out on the sofa with Momo curled up and snoozing on his chest.

He thumbed idly through his phone, clearing old messages and forwarded memes in a vain attempt to restore some memory space. Sokka found himself returning repeatedly to the chat with Zuko, which so far consisted of nothing but a handful of YouTube links followed by a  _ Hello, Zuko here  _ tacked on almost like an afterthought.

He's still mulling over everything he'd learned from Toph, thumb hovering over the chat box when the screen abruptly cut to that of an incoming video call.

"Movie night ! Bet you forgot." Aang enthused in place of a greeting, and Sokka almost agreed with him.

Instead he snorted. "Call this fortnights' pick,

Forgot I had not at all,

To lend you the chance."

"You're getting better at those." Aang nodded appreciatively. Smart boy; flattery got one everywhere.

A minute later though, Sokka's regretting letting Aang choose the flick.

"But you liked Pochahontas !" The kid had absolutely no right to look so betrayed.

"Sure," Sokka sniffed, "I liked it the first time we watched it but not the  _ six consecutive times you picked it _ for your turn choosing on movie nights !" 

Aang had the grace to look sheepish. "I'm sorry Sokka, it's just that you know how much I love Colours of the  _ Wind _ . And grandma Willow always reminds me of Gyatso." He's pulling the huge, liquid grey eyes thing he does by the end, and Sokka could turn a hard heart to the puppy eyes from his own sister, but not from Aang.

Because he's the biggest pushover to ever get pushed, Sokka lumbers over and shoves the DVD in. Aang cheers.

As usual, he also passes out halfway through. Sokka keeps the movie going in the background out of long-standing habit now. His sister grinned as she gently pried the phone out of Aang's slack grip.

"Toph misses you both by the way," he tells Katara. "Though you didn't hear that from me."

"And what about you, big brother ? You missing the keeper of your one brain cell yet ?"

Actually, talking to Katara about this dilemma might be exactly what he needed. Invoking her birthright of brutal honesty between siblings, she'd straight up tell him he was being an idiot, to say no to Zuko and drop the whole crazy idea of illicit, very likely bloody fighting, and to move on with his life.

He could finally stop obsessing over the sad, awkward, one-sided little chat and text Zuko 

_ "Over this I have mulled,  _

_ Seems like a truly terrible idea,  _

_ Gonna have to say No."  _ thus turning it into a sad, awkward, two-sided little chat and then proceed to never show his face at BSS again while simultaneously avoiding the Jasmine Dragon like the plague. Pretty straightforward, really.

Katara squinted at his face and then recoiled. "Uh oh," she says. "I recognise that look. The last time you wore that mopey expression was when you were still mooning over Yue, no pun intended."

"I didn't  _ mope _ !"

"Fine," she waves a hand in vague agreement."The term  _ mourned _ is more apt. So who's breaking your heart  _ now _ ?"

He takes a deep breath and then tells her everything. Sokka was so caught up in his explanation, that he didn't realise she was smiling until nearly at the end.

"Are you screen recording this ?" He asked suspiciously. "Will I have to hack into your YouTube account and take down something like  _ 2020’s version of Leave Miley Alone _ ? Or  _ Guy takes complete leave of emotional and cognitive senses  _ ?"

Katara just beamed all the wider at him.

"Why are you smiling like that !?" He wailed. Momo flicked his oversized ears in annoyance but refused to leave his chest.

"Because you're an idiot," she said so affectionately, he wondered if she'd momentarily forgotten who she was talking to.

"Alright," Sokka sighed dejectedly. She'd confirmed his prediction. "Guess I'll just send him that haiku then-"

"What haiku ?" Katara's brow wrinkled. "You know what, never mind. You're an idiot, Sokka, because you've clearly already made up your mind about this."

"I have ?" What sorcery was this ?

She shook her head in fond exasperation. "You're a  _ lot _ of things, but indecisive isn't one of them. You've always known what you wanted, and you've set your goals and chased them down, even if all the Boomerang waving was overkill sometimes."

At his uncomprehending look she wrinkled her nose at him. "You  _ want _ to do this thing, even if you aren't admitting it to yourself."

"Because it's crazy !" He yelped. It was as if her words had punctured a balloon of counter-arguments for not saying yes to Zuko, which had steadily been swelling within him these last few days, and now they gushed out of him in a torrent. 

"I guess what's really been eating me is that I'm just not good enough."

Katara narrowed her eyes at him. "What exactly do you mean."

He huffed. "I'm not like you and Aang or even Toph. You guys are just...on a whole 'nother level. Moves and manoeuvres that took me weeks to master, you guys had down pat in  _ days _ ." 

It hurt to say it out loud, but Sokka knew it was true. He'd only started learning MMA to give Katara company after what had happened to Mom, when fourteen and grieving, she'd sworn to learn how to fight. To learn how to protect herself and anyone she loved against something like that ever happening again. Katara had violently rejected the notion of needing to be defended at the cost of someone's own safety, and she'd thrown herself into mastering self-defense, getting better and better over the years until nobody, lightweight or welter or heavyweight had dared take her on. The first person to beat her in a long time had been Aang, and they'd been inseparable since then.

"I make enough of a fool of myself without trying. Don't need to go make a spectacle of myself  _ publically _ ." He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Momo blinked reproachfully at him, now fully awake and highly disgruntled. He stroked the soft fur of the abyssinian cat's head as he talked, a counterpoint of calm to how overwrought he felt getting all his misgivings out into the open. Momo purred.

The bleak couple of years after Mom had been tough on everyone in their little family. They each had dealt with it differently - Katara throwing herself into learning how to fight, Hakoda into work that often had him travelling far away from home on extended trips which Sokka knew his father felt guilty about to this day. Gran-gran had done her best to hold them together, but eventually it had been time that had helped scab their wounds over, if not completely heal them. 

Sokka's way of dealing with things had been to resolutely ignore the pit that had yawned inside him, always pushing forward. He'd cracked jokes when the pall of loss would settle over their family from time to time, trying to lighten the mood when small reminders of her being gone would unexpectedly claw out from where they'd been hidden. 

He'd been pragmatic when everyone else had been too numb to function, even if he'd just wanted to sit in a corner somewhere and sob because  _ Mom was gone _ . He'd focused on school, he'd done his best to get a full ride to university. He'd tried to be a good son to his one remaining parent, a good grandson, a good brother.

Sokka's formative years had been spent trying to be whoever his family had  _ needed _ him to be at the time, playing whatever role he'd needed to play in order to balance things.

And when he looked back at it all, Sokka knew he'd done well enough. 

Not the best, but far from the worst. Like he'd told Zuko that first time, he'd made his peace with it. Some might have called it mediocrity, and that had rankled for a while before he'd made his peace with that too.

But fighting in Sozin's championship alongside  _ Zuko _ of all people wasn't just about being  _ good enough. _

Afterall, suffering a loss here wouldn't merely be his pride taking a beating- the danger of serious physical injury was very real.

And the last thing Sokka wanted to be was an albatross around Zuko's neck, a lodestone dragging him down. It was obvious that winning the Sozin's tournament was even more important to Zuko than he'd let on, and even if he barely knew the guy, Sokka didn't want to be the one holding him back.

Sokka didn't know how to put all of this into words to explain to her, but Katara apparently didn't need them, intuiting what he'd wanted to say in that weird way she had sometimes. She studied him now, brow furrowed in concentration.

Sokka waited.

At last, Katara sighed. "You've always been better at the logistics side of things, so I can't really tell you anything useful on  _ how _ to go about this."

"But Sokka," she said earnestly, "I've never known you to not figure something out if you really wanted to do it. Train more, work with Zuko. I'm sure he'd be happy to help the one guy he asked to be his partner."

"But what about college ? I'm busier than ever and- Katara, my  _ schedule _ ! My beautiful schedule would be so messed up !" He yowled. He'd had it colour coded too, all the way upto the end of the semester.

At this, Katara rolled her eyes. She'd never had much patience for his nitpicky (and totally  _ justified _ ) ways when it came to the art of appropriate time management.

"I'll deny this until my dying day, but you've always been the more responsible of the two of us for this kind of thing. And honestly, I admire how you could make a plan and then  _ stick _ to it, even if scheduling your bathroom time was a bit excessive."

"Hey, I'll have you know, people spend an average of one hour and 42 minutes a week, or almost 92 days over a lifetime in the toilet. That's 2208 hours." he informed her. "A lot of potentially productive time  _ down the drain _ , heh."

Katara looked a disturbed at why he happened to possess this knowledge.

"Moving on," she said hurriedly, "my point is, Sokka, that if you really want to do this, the way  _ I'm _ sure you are, you'll find a way to fit it in somehow. You  _ are _ the plan guy after all." She told him with a wry smile.

"And the ideas guy."

"Sure"

"And best detective." He reminded her.

She didn't hold back on the scepticism. "Yeah about that…"

"And the funniest guy." He was already feeling a lot better about himself!

"Now  _ that's _ a joke if I ever heard one,"

"And the best older brother to ever bro," he nodded solemnly.

" _ Now _ you're pushing it," Katara says but she's grinning. "Honestly,  _ live _ a little, big brother. I forget sometimes that you're older since you insist on acting like a child most of the time, but you've  _ got _ this.Your head's already big enough that it's a wonder how you can get it through the door, so tell it to take a nap and follow your heart for a change."

"That sounded almost wise. You should write it down somewhere." He raised an eyebrow at her.

She blew a raspberry at him. "Cherish it, because I just used up my quota of being nice to you for the entire  _ year _ ."

All things considered, Sokka's pretty sure he'd lucked out big time when it came to kid sisters.

* * *

Come Monday, Sokka strolls into BSS on feet almost as light as his heart. The sad, awkward, one-sided little chat with Zuko was no longer sad, or one-sided. (He'd even composed a new haiku for the occasion of his acceptance to partner up with Zuko. Zuko had replied with a single  _? _ before formally thanking him- seriously, the guy needed to explore the articulateness of emojis- and had forwarded Sokka a wall of technical details.) 

Zuko waved him over when he caught sight of Sokka.

"So did you think about it ? Your stage name ?" He asked in all seriousness, foregoing an actual greeting. The guy had the social skills of a cornflake, really. It was oddly endearing.

Sokka had been waiting all weekend to unveil this one. He tells Zuko.

Zuko took a moment, clearly questioning if he'd heard right the first time. "No way."

"Yes, way ! All the way !" It was perfect.

" _ Wang Fire _ and The Blue Spirit ?" Zuko asked weakly. "We'd sound like the title of a bad porno!" A hand crept up to unconsciously clutch at his hair.

"Interesting choice of porn you got there," Sokka tells him with an academic sort of interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, we're done with all the setup - it's action from here on out !  
> To every one who's suspended their disbelief (while telling me how unnecessary it felt to do so) - ILY <3 <3 Y'all da real MVPs


	5. Opening Night: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: References past violence/trauma

_Subdural haematoma- 12 ml collected_

_Bilateral malar fracture with blow out fracture of Lt. orbit_

_Fracture mandible at angle, Lt_

_Lt. TMJ dislocation_

_Fracture Ribs- Rt 3rd, 4th, 5th_

_Rt. traumatic spontaneous pneumothorax,_

_Compound fracture of Lt. humerus Torn Lt. MCL - joint unstable_

_Internal primary haemorrhage_

The blue ink chicken scratch on the admission papers had been written in a rushed hand. Legible, but just barely.

(His left eye itches as he reads)

There were tiny blots at the ends of the letters where the pen had deposited its load of ink for milliseconds longer than usual. 

(His eye is throbbing now, but he can't look away, can't stop reading and re-reading the same thing) 

There are minute swirls of ink curling around the barest slivers of blank white at the base of the upstrokes, the sort that resulted from penning a quick turn in a small space. Those would have invariably made the pen scratch. The ink of the endstrokes for the last letters of every word tapered off.

(His eye feels like it's on fire)

The bright white of the paper was harsh under the glare of the hospital's fluorescent light.

(He squeezes his eye shut, the pain unbearable now, but the image of the list, every last word, is as good as burned onto his retina)

It's too pristine, he thinks. The sheet is too clean. How could it remain so unblemished, when it detailed injuries so ghastly ? A neat summary of a living mess.

(His eye waters, tears trickling from under his tightly closed eyelid)

Something splashes onto the spotless white paper. He's sure it's a tear from his watering eye, but he looks anyway. Instead of clear liquid, deep crimson stains the white, soaking into it and spreading until the spotless sheet drips with it.

(That's when Zuko smells the burning flesh)

* * *

He woke up heaving, his nose clogged with the phantom smell of char. The sheets were tangled around his legs and all his flailing dumped him over the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

Zuko sits there trembling, sucking in great, ragged breaths. When his pulse had dulled from a roar to a just a quick thumping in his ears, he reached up and checked his scar.

Cool and slightly uneven. Painless.

Zuko didn't even bother glancing at the luminous hands of the clock; he pulled himself up and felt around for his clothes. Might as well finish that paper he had to turn in two weeks from now. Sleep would evade him for what remained of the dark.

* * *

He'd just finished locking up the shop downstairs after taking inventory (which he'd already done two days ago) and mopping the floor (twice) and lining up every blend they stocked alphabetically (after first arranging by strength of the brew).

He couldn't stall any longer.

"Uncle," Zuko's mouth was so dry he could barely get the words past his lips. "I'll be out late tonight, so don't wait up for me." Iroh looked up from his sudoku puzzle, eyes twinkling.

"Is the lucky person anyone I've met? You know where the car keys are."

"It's not a date," Zuko muttered. No need to mention that yes, indeed Iroh had met Sokka just the other day.

The guilt that accompanied the hiding of his imminent involvement in Sozin's championship from Iroh had been eating him from inside out for days now. It would linger, gnawing like hunger pangs in his head rather than his gut. But Zuko knew he _had_ to keep his mouth shut. Iroh wouldn't take the news of his participation with his usual good humour. Not for this.

Iroh merely pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Well, enjoy your not-date then." He wished Zuko placidly, returning to his puzzle.

Zuko savoured the relief that came with Iroh's easy acceptance of his announcement as he yanked on his shoes. 

He was out and just about to pull the front door closed when Iroh hollered, "And don't forget to use protection!"

It is already too late, the door has clicked shut, but he bellows back anyway, "I _said_ it's not a _date_!"

The door to the apartment up the landing stairs flew open and Cabbage Guy stuck his head out to bestow upon Zuko the dirtiest of looks.

The usual old-socks smell of boiling cruciferous vegetables assaulted Zuko's nose, and he took the stairs down two at a time, grumbling sweet nothings to himself. Old men were the worst.

* * *

Zuko shut off the engine and looked across at Sokka in the dim light from the dashboard.

"You ready ?"

Sokka released his seatbelt with a decisive poke of the button, nearly bouncing in his seat. He'd been unrecognisable when Zuko first saw him waiting, leaning against his bike. Sokka's face was painted in swathes of grey and black, his lower jaw highlighted in stark white. The bright blue of his eyes almost seemed to glow in the lowlight, ringed by the deep black of the paint that hooded them.

He didn't look anything like the goofy, laidback boy Zuko had watched out of the corner of his eye for weeks. Sokka wore the countenance of a wolf, a spirit of old from one of Iroh's stories. A hunter on the prowl.

It made Zuko's throat run dry.

"Are you _absolutely_ sure I can't wear this ?" Sokka asked plaintively, holding up the luxuriously furry fake beard, and just like that the spell was broken.

Zuko groaned, thumping his head against the steering wheel. "For the last time, _no_."

"Fine," Sokka muttered, "No appreciation for presentation, but _fine_." Mercifully, he tossed the ridiculous beard (complete with moustache) into the back, and Zuko resisted the strong urge to turn around and glare at the thing.

"Remind me again, what's the point of an opening night sans any matches ?" He prodded Zuko's shoulder, sounding put out.

"I told you," Zuko said through clenched teeth, "it's to hob-nob." He ignored Sokka's snickering at the choice of his words and continued.

"To scout out potential allies. Between today and the start of the fighting a week from now, one would typically enter informal talks- which is just business speak for haggling- and agree on which fights to rig with another player so that everyone pulls in maximum earnings."

"Isn't a whole week kinda long though ?" Sokka looked doubtful.

Zuko shrugged. "These things take time to... _steep_ I guess." 

He pulled out his two tubs of grease paint and began daubing on the mask of the Blue Spirit in the rearview mirror.

"We're more unusual- most alliances are made in this week rather than before, unless it's an established crew."

"Well here's to not running into too many bitter brews," Sokka mumbled under his breath, and Zuko had to stop painting for a second and smile at the way Sokka had run with his tea analogy.

"How do I look ?" He asked, screwing on the lids of his paint. His mother's paint, remnants of her old stage make-up.

Sokka eyed him critically. "Like you'd mug a dude in the street for his fancy tea set," he told Zuko, wiping away a stray smudge of blue paint at the corner of his jaw. 

The empty parking lot which had been silent so far suddenly thrummed with the vibrations of a powerful sound system.

Sokka cocked an ear to the music. "Is that…are they seriously playing Welcome to the Jungle ?" He looked incredulous and delighted in equal measure, sniggering away. "The organisers _do_ know it's basically Axl Rose promising to get frisky in bed, right ?"

Zuko shrugged, smiling grimly. "Bringing people to their knees, watching them bleed ? It's as good a soundtrack for this tournament as any."

He cracked the kink out of his neck. "Plus, sex and fighting aren't all that different."

Sokka side-eyed him. "How'd you work that one out ?"

"For starters, they both involve at least two people having a go at each other. The more the merrier though." Zuko rolled his neck, loosening up. There would be no fighting this evening, but that didn't mean he still wasn't walking into battle.

"They both require some give and take, a rhythm, a pattern to the movements if they're to be even remotely good."

He flexed his shoulder. It still twinged slightly from all the mopping in the shop.

"Not to mention, there's sweat and sometimes even blood involved, especially with first-timers." Done with the first, Zuko began working his other shoulder.

"But mostly, sex and fighting aren't so different," he leaned across the console to unlock Sokka's door since the boy just wasn't making any move to do it himself, "because someone always comes out on top."

Zuko pushed open his own door and got out into the night, pulling his hood up. Sokka still hadn't shifted. He knocked on the roof twice. "Let's get moving."

His partner climbed out at last, stiff-legged in the chill. Zuko frowned; it really wasn't that cold.

* * *

"Wang Fire and the Blue Spirit ?" The huge guard at the door asks them, raising an eyebrow.

Zuko grits his teeth behind his face paint and nods sharply. (He's praying that this guard at least won't make any STD jokes- the ringside commentators will be bad enough once the matches start).

Sokka was practically vibrating beside him. Anymore excited and he'd probably become a source of thermionic emission, Zuko thought sourly.

The guard checks them off on his tablet. "Welcome to the show boys." He smirked, throwing open the doors with a flourish. Zuko relaxed the tiniest bit. "And try to keep it in your pants this time."

That's what he got for hoping.

The massive arena was just as Zuko remembered. He made a concentrated effort to unclench, all the way from his fists down to his toes as he took in the scene before him.

The four fighting platforms were arranged at the points of a diamond. Octagons at east and west, a standard boxing four sided ring north and a slightly raised open mat to the south.

The central space of the gym marked off by the four platforms thronged with people, and even more looked down from the half level above the main floor. 

The walls were lined with stalls selling everything from basic protein supplements, to grey market anabolic steroids. He spotted the quieter, shadowy booths run by bookies who were already taking bets on fighters.

 _'Fire Fitness ! Feel the BURN !_ ' boomed from above, echoing around the huge indoor space as the massive screens mounted on the cross beams of the ceiling ran continuous advertisements for the Fire Fitness® gym chain.

Zuko cringed at the tastelessness of it all, and checked to see how Sokka was holding up.

"This is so cool," Sokka whispered, eyes huge. Sighing, he gave the boy another minute to take it all in. 

"So, what's the plan now ?" Sokka asked after he was done ogling everything in sight for now.

"Now," Zuko told him with no small amount of trepidation, "we mingle."

* * *

Zuko had kicked himself all weekend when he hadn't received a reply from Sokka. The self flagellation was an old, familiar habit by now, almost reassuring in its repetitiveness. Because poorly-thought out decisions were just another old friend of Zuko's. Why, _why_ in heaven's name had he asked a complete stranger to partner up with him ? And why would that stranger, even for a moment, entertain the idea at all? 

In some ways, Sokka's acceptance had both relieved and worried him in equal measure- worried because clearly the guy was just as crazy as Zuko was, in his own special way. Relieved because honestly, maybe a touch of crazy was exactly what he needed if he was going to win this thing.

"What if I had said no? What were you planning to do then ?" Sokka had asked him curiously after he first agreed to go along with this madness.

"Wouldn't have been the first time I'd be on my own." Zuko had shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. He didn't miss the way Sokka's eyes had tracked the stiffness of his shoulders though, the way he couldn't help but clench his fists a little tighter. Zuko knew that Sokka hadn't been fooled by his farce.

"Plenty of fighters enter as solo competitors." He remembered the note of defensiveness in his voice, trying to crush it as best as he could. Sokka's keen gaze had unnerved him- it stripped back all his smokescreens and pretenses and zeroed in on the tangled mess of truth Zuko was constantly trying to hide, only feeding it out in a measured trickle. 

Now, watching Sokka soak in the atmosphere of adrenaline and the promise of entertainment, he couldn't have been more relieved to have him by his side. Even if Sokka did insist on beaming at everyone they passed, shooting them double finger guns.

As they walked around, Zuko keeping vigilant for familiar faces both hostile and non-hostile, Sokka got chatty.

"So I can kinda sorta see why people might pay an arm and a leg to train here. The setup they've got going is _incredible_. It's a pity it can't be used for the tournament though."

What.

"What d'you mean, _not_ going to be used for the tournament ?" Zuko asked, perturbed. "The championship will be fought _right here_."

"Hey," Sokka laughed, poking Zuko in the ribs. "I know how these things work alright, you don't have to baby me through." Looking pleased with himself, he continued much to Zuko's growing consternation.

"I've watched Step Up 2 you know. We'll get that secret text and we drop everything and show up that night for the fight, a different abandoned warehouse everytime cause there's no single fixed location." 

Zuko blinks at Sokka in disbelief. "You do realise this is real life and not a movie right ? It'll be _here_. At the gym. Every weekend."

Sokka was starting to look profoundly betrayed now. "Hold up. You're telling me there's no different secret location every different time ?"

" _No_ ," Zuko snorted. "How would they even set up the octagons and tech stuff somewhere new every week? Not to mention location scouting for an indoor space large enough _and_ conveniently in the middle of nowhere or far from the residential areas at least. Municipal permissions for _renting_ said huge space. The rent _amount_ itself. And fielding noise complaints from neighbours, _ugh_ , don't even get me _started_ on those." Zuko shuddered.

Sokka was gaping at him. "So Ozai just hosts a secret, illegal bloodbath every weekend _on_ his own legally traceable premises ? How does he pull _that_ off ?"

Zuko checked to see whether Sokka was asking this for real. He was. "By paying off the authorities, like _normal_ crooks." The _duh_ was implied in his tone.

"Why do I get the feeling you've had extensive first hand involvement with the organisation side of this thing ?" Sokka looked unwillingly impressed.

"I was being groomed to take over the family business since I was wearing size S gloves, remember ?" Zuko pointed out. "Bureaucracy. _Paperwork_." Still gave him bad dreams.

Avoiding the worst of the crowd, they had drifted over to one of the quieter stalls at the very end of the long lineup, plunged in gloomy shadow where it was tucked under the overhang of the mezzanine floor above _._

 _A Brief history of our Glorious Institution !_ The banner proclaimed. It consisted of one of those little audio-video booths found in museums, the sort that came with earphones and a booklet about the specimen on display. The huge stack of informational booklets was untouched, a testament to the stall's popularity. It was manned by, on first glance, what appeared to be a giant owl. Sokka looked longingly at it, and Zuko resigned himself to a very boring next ten minutes as he let Sokka tug him along. The tall, stooped old man appeared distinctly owlish even on second glance as he glared irritably at the two of them for having the audacity to actually visit his stall.

Sokka paid for two sets of earphones and patted the seat beside him excitedly for Zuko to sit down before the screen.

"I should have figured, you were that kid who spent your vacations hanging out in the library." He muttered petulantly.

Sokka winked at him. The effect was unnerving with his warpaint. "I'll have you know, libraries are _great_ places to spend a vacation at. Knowledge is power, know thy enemy and whatnot. I want to learn as much as I can about what we're up against."

Resigned to his fate, Zuko hit play.

Animated fire flickered across the screen until the five tongued flame, the emblem of the gym emerged.

Zuko closed his eyes as he listened to the voice drone on. Might as well try for a nap.

_'Fire Fitness had humble beginnings - Sensei Yorsor started a dojo consisting of a single room and a mere handful of students. These students however, came to be known as the finest martial artists to ever grace the mat, specialising in Northern Shaolin Kung fu. The dojo grew - their rigorous standards of discipline and demanding training would separate the wheat from the chaff - only the strongest survived and thrived, and went on to bring much fame and honour for the dojo._

_The dojo and the secrets of training its incredible students passed down from father to son- to Sensei's Chaeryu and then Zoryu._

_But it wasn't until Sensei Sozin that the dojo truly flourished, reaching its peak of success._

_They called his students the Firebenders - so quick were their strikes, so fluid their movements that spectators would often describe their fighting as akin to watching the graceful and deadly dance of twisting flames._

_Sensei Sozin stamped the dojo as a power to stay, one of the countries' premier authorities on martial arts at the time, but it was his son, Shihan Azulon who ushered in a new era of prosperity and glory. He was a shrewd man with a keen understanding of the shifting ideas in the world of traditional martial arts. With his ear always to the ground, he was one of the first to hear the whisperings of a new form of fighting - Mixed Martial Arts._

_Shihan Azulon had observed how the rigid standards of the dojo and singular form of kung fu taught here had served to alienate many potential students. MMA, while still very much in its nascent stages in the country offered an excellent compromise. His only wish was to bring the noble art of fighting to the capable fists and feet of more young people.'_

Zuko had to scoff out loud at this. "Do actually you believe all this propaganda ?" he sneered, glaring holes into the screen as Sokka paused the video.

The scene was stuck on an old painting of Azulon looking on all kind and grandfatherly at his class of students who were mid-kick. In reality, Zuko knew Azulon would have been red-faced and screaming at them to kick each other. Preferably in the face.

Sokka scratched his head."Other than the weirdly persistent emphasis on glory and honour, when MMA is honestly just about the best way to break the human body ? Sounds legit enough."

Zuko scowled. "It was never about making the _'noble art of fighting'_ more accessible to everyone. It was always about the revenue. First Mover's advantage in a chaotic but potentially lucrative business."

"I'm just gonna…" Sokka trailed off warily, putting his headphones back on and unpausing as he wisely let Zuko fume in peace.

_'The dojo, now rebranded as Fire Fitness grew and grew, becoming one of the pioneering as well as founding voices, a codifier of MMA culture in the country._

_The business programmes of premier universities used the Fire Fitness model as case studies. Young professors and advisors across colleges would grumble under their breath when yet another thesis proposal for a study of the Fire Fitness business model would reach their desk. They'd hem and haw, but couldn't outright reject it - after all, they themselves had written their thesis on it not too long ago._

_Today, under the esteemed leadership of Shihan Ozai, Fire Fitness boasts an impressive number of students who train at the multiple facilities across ten different cities. Sign up at one nearest to you !_

_While MMA as an organized sport still has its share of teething problems- as a business it has bloomed into a multi-billion dollar industry and is still growing._

_As is Fire Fitness, thanks to the sweat and blood of all of you, our patrons and our students ! Here at Fire Fitness, we have always strived to provide the highest standards of training and guidance. Together, we can continue to shape the world of martial arts, as we have always done ! Join Fire Fitness ! Feel the BURN!"_

Zuko ripped off his headset, and stormed out of the booth, unable to take it anymore. Sokka followed, jogging to catch up a few seconds later after returning the headphones. He silently fell into step besides Zuko.

"Growing up, we were taught that our way of fighting was the best, that showing mercy in a showdown was weakness." He said, clipped. "We were taught that if our opponent wasn't out cold by the end of a bout, we had failed. Drawing blood was even better." He ground his teeth. "And somehow, that it was okay for kids to worship ruthless violence. Under Sozin and then Azulon, this gym began promoting bloodsport, not kung fu. And then, when it wasn't enough to merely corrupt everything the discipline stood for, they began to cast their net wider and call it MMA. What an amazing lie that was!" Zuko laughed bitterly.

"Competitors from other dojos and gyms were so terrified by our students that they were actually banned from attending meets and competitions. It's why the Sozin's tournament was created in the first place, because nobody in their right mind wanted to fight us and with nowhere to prove their mettle, students were leaving the gym."

Sokka had been quiet all this time, processing. "But Iroh got out, didn't he ? And so did you."

Zuko sighed. "Yeah, we did. But at a price." Zuko didn't elaborate, and Sokka chose not to comment, deep in thought as they headed back towards the crowds.

"Hey cutie," one of the serving guys turned on a dime as he passed them, flashing a broad grin at Sokka. His teeth gleamed purple and green as the strobes flickered. "Care to try something from our premium range of health foods ?" He thrust his tray of free samples under Sokka's chin. Sokka sniffed appreciatively, but just before he reached out for one of the mini cupfuls of what Zuko identified as Fire Gummies, his hand froze and he shot Zuko a look that asked, _They wouldn't poison us even before the first match, right ?_

Healthy suspicion, Zuko thought. Good, he was already learning. Sokka would survive longer than most, even with zero experience here. He nodded at Sokka to go ahead.

"Don't mind if I do," Sokka beamed back at the server and helped himself to a cup of everything on offer. The man winked at Sokka and then bustled off.

Zuko was busy surveying the crush of bodies for the one person he truly wanted to talk to. The idea filled him with revulsion, but this was what he'd come here for in the first place.

"Dude,” Sokka tugged at his sleeve. He appeared to be in the throes of a religious experience. "Oh my god Zuko, you _need_ to try these things." He proffered Zuko the cup of fireflakes and shook it zealously at him. 

"No thanks, I grew up eating this stuff." He told Sokka absent-mindedly, still checking for any familiar faces.

"Healfh fooj have no bishness taeshting dish good," Sokka informed him rapturously. He'd thrown the entire cup of gummies into his mouth and Zuko winced - he'd forgotten to warn Sokka why that wasn't a good idea. His partner's eyes were streaming, leaving runny tracks in the neat lines of warpaint he wore, but Sokka merely looked thrilled at the prospect of burning off his taste buds.

He crunched down a mouthful of fireflakes now, and Zuko watched in fascinated horror as Sokka systematically decimated the contents of all five of his free sample containers, stacking them neatly one into the other before he looked around hopefully for another server.

"C'mon," Zuko muttered, grabbing Sokka by the wrist. "You're a danger to yourself. I'll buy you jars of the stuff if you promise not to gobble it all at once." Sokka wouldn't be pleased tomorrow morning in the toilet if he were allowed to indiscriminately eat 28k Scoville unit foodstuffs in one sitting.

He didn't wait for Sokka's answer, towing him to where he spotted the nearest stand selling Flaming Food products.

Sokka was looking at Zuko like Christmas had come early, and Zuko was bringing it. "I bet the gym makes a killing off of these things."

Zuko selected a tub of every type of snack he remembered liking when taste testing them as a kid and took out his wallet to pay. The old lady behind the counter accepted his card gleefully.

Sokka was pulling out a few crumpled bills himself. "You aren't paying for all of that."

Zuko waved his money off and shoved the bagful of health foods and unpronounceable protein concoctions into Sokka's hand. For some reason, girls who came to the Jasmine Dragon tipped surprisingly well. "Consider it my thanks for you agreeing to do this in the first place."

Sokka stopped rifling through the contents of the bag to look up seriously at him. "If you think I can be bribed with delicious food, then you're absolutely right. I'm easy that way." He grinned. Zuko kind of wished everyone he met were as easy to placate as Sokka. Apparently, food and information were the guy's catnip.

Their purchase at the stall had attracted other curious bystanders who were probably wondering what the big deal was. The old lady was besides herself with elation.

"And here I spent all my life thinking that health foods were supposed to taste like sawdust." Sokka marveled as Zuko steered him away from the gathering crowd. "I'd have gotten on the train so much earlier if I'd known they made 'em like _this_." He declared.

Zuko decided to set the record straight. "Flaming Foods was all Iroh's idea. He was the one who insisted they should have character and actual flavour. If left to my father, everything would have tasted like ash, with no variety other than boring old protein powder."

Sokka nodded like this made perfect sense. "Once again, General Iroh saves the day. Institutionalized brutality aside, and something tells me he wasn't a proponent of it, sounds like he had a pretty sweet gig running your family's gym. Why did he ever leave and go over to BSS ?"

Answering that question would dig up too much dirt however, rattle too many graves. "You don't want to know," Zuko muttered darkly.

Sokka looked at him funny, but didn't push for an answer. 

They'd now reached the exhibition matches, and Sokka craned his neck for a better view of the show-fighting. 

Two of the octagons had friendly fights in progress, although there was way too much flipping and spinning going on for what could be considered practical in an actual beatdown.

On the southern expanse of open mat was an ongoing display for pure martial art skills. A group of teenagers were showing off their precision hits as they launched off the bent knees of their colleagues and flung themselves into the air, smashing tiles mounted on stands as they kicked them on their descent. 

They somersaulted and twisted mid-air, the halves of broken tiles raining down with not a single one being missed.

Zuko recognised the phoenix insignia on their gi's - these were all Ozai's personally trained students.

Sokka's was staring slack-jawed at the spectacle unfolding before him. "We're going to be up against _that_?" He asked weakly.

"We're going to be up against much, much worse." Zuko informed him.

"Suddenly I wish I hadn't eaten as many snacks," Sokka mumbled, looking green around the gills.

Zuko grabbed his shoulder. "Don't worry, they're all about the flex." 

Ozai was an excellent fighter in his own right, but he'd always focussed a little too much on showboating. Clearly, he'd passed on the tendency to his students.

Zuko couldn't miss the opportunity to tease Sokka. "Plus, I can do all of that and more. Don't worry, I'll keep you safe." 

"My hero," Sokka said dryly, fluttering his lashes at Zuko. But he did look somewhat reassured.

"Will you be alright by yourself for a few minutes?" Zuko asked him quickly. He thought he might have seen someone…

Sokka followed Zuko's line-of-sight into the crowd, squinting.

"Yeah don't worry about me, I'll be fine. All on my lonesome. Stood up by my date for the evening, left alone at the altar of violence."

He sniggered shamelessly at the pained look Zuko sent him.

"No seriously go, do your prodigal-son-has-returned-in- snazzy-disguise schtick, I'm cool." He jerked a thumb over at the stage."These guys are way more interesting than you anyway. His eyes glittered with mischief.

"Go on," he encouraged _, "Hob-nob._ " Sokka cackled as Zuko glared. He wiggled his fingers in a _toodles_ sort of gesture, turning it into a more forceful shooing motion when Zuko still hesitated to leave.

He wrenched himself away, Sokka watching the performances contentedly, and cut quickly through the throngs of aimlessly wandering people. He hoped he hadn't lost her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 will be up in a few hours


	6. Opening Night:Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mentions of Violence (how Zuko got his scar)

Somebody tapped his shoulder. "So. Guess we're gonna be dodging bison dung falling from the sky now, huh ?" Zuko spun around and hugged Mai, her carefully placid expression cracking as she squeaked when her toes cleared the ground.

"I've missed you." He didn't hold back the dopey grin that he knew was splitting his face right then.

Mai's bun tickled his chin as she shook her head at him, but she patted his shoulder companionably. "I'm always right." She looked away, scanning the crowd. "Don't tell me you left you boy lost amongst these fine, upstanding citizens."

Zuko snickered. "Sokka's smart and he can take care of himself. Plus, he's discovered the snacks. Last I checked, he believed he'd died and gone to epicurean heaven."

"Ah, proprietary Flaming Fitness® foodstuffs. Only the second good thing to come out of your family's business machinery."

"What's the first ?"

She gave him a meaningful sort of look.

"Oh." Zuko and Mai hadn't been together for years now, but she was the one person who could still make him blush.

Mai was biting back one of her rare smiles. "You're lucky you're pretty, since I sure didn't keep you around because you were the sharpest knife in the sleeve."

Zuko bounced on the balls of his toes, their familiar back and forth putting him at ease. 

"How's it working out with Wolftail though ?" She asked more seriously. "You two seemed like you'd fit well together, even if it was at short notice."

Zuko reflexively searched for Sokka again. He caught sight of the boy still near the fight display but looking around carefully now.

"You called it right, Mai. You always do." He shot her smile. "He's a good person. A good partner." Zuko watched as the nearly imperceptible worry line smoothened out from her forehead. 

"I did have a favour to ask of you." He took a fortifying breath as she waited impassively for him to continue.

"Keep an eye out for Azula, would you ? See that she doesn't...take too much damage."

Mai took her time answering. "Don't you plan on beating her yourself anyway ? Won't it just be  _ serendipitous _ if someone were to take her out before and clear a path for you instead ?"

Zuko bowed his head. "Firstly, you know that Azula is untouchable. It's inevitable that it'll be her in the cage on that last day. And secondly, you know that I won't truly have won Sozin's if it isn't  _ Azula _ who I defeat in the finals. Afterall," he smiled grimly, "it's family tradition, isn't it ?"

Lu Ten would have inherited the ownership of the business after Iroh, but being an only child, he didn't have any sibling to challenge him. Maybe he'd have been luckier if it  _ was _ a brother or sister he had to face. Zuko liked to think- if just for his own peace of mind- that his own sibling (even from a family as bloodthirsty as theirs) wouldn't have left Lu in such a state that even the ER resident on call that night had taken a moment to look away, sickened.

It made his gut roil even now, so he swallowed the acid rising in his throat and pushed on.

Zuko could hear how his voice had begun to tremble with the effort of not shouting. "Azula will face me in the end, winner takes all. It's the only way."

Mai studied his face for a long time, her own expression inscrutable. At last, she sighed. "You know you  _ are _ allowed to be worried for her, right ?"

Zuko snorted. "I'd be more worried for the poor suckers facing her in the octagon. Facing you three  _ combined _ ." He whistled lowly. "They won't stand a chance."

Mai smirked in simple acknowledgement of the truth. But her solemnity returned quickly.

"Azula is...a complicated person." she enunciated carefully. Zuko thought she was being a little too nice. "You know that better than any of us. I don't see eye to eye with her on most things, but Zuko, it's _okay_ to care for your sister."

"No!" He snapped. "There was a time maybe when I could call her my sister and mean it, but not anymore. She's just Azula to me now. Another trench in the road waiting for me to fall into it."

Mai's topaz eyes gave nothing away as she read him like an open book. He'd always felt like a bug pinned beneath her gaze. It had taken some getting used to when they'd first started dating and she could lay him open with just a glance, a few words- unnervingly enough, sometimes Sokka made him feel the same way when they got in the ring and squared off against each other. Mercifully, she dropped the subject. "Whatever you say, Zuko. Ty Lee's got our backs."

"I know. I'll sleep easier knowing she's looking out for you. She's the only reason I can even  _ bear _ the idea of you getting in the ring alongside Azula." He squeezed her hand.

Mai raised one dangerous eyebrow. "Are you implying I can't handle myself in case of a potential backstabbing from sister dearest ?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah," she muttered. "You're lucky I do." Mai tugged at her sleeves, a nervous gesture she'd never quite managed to shake.

"What if the three of us have to face you and Sokka  _ before _ the finals ? Admit it, if you two are even  _ half _ as good as us, you're going to be meeting us in the ring sooner than the finals. What's your plan ?"

"I'm still working on it," he gets out past gritted teeth. Zuko almost preferred their previous highly uncomfortable topic of Azula.

"Brilliant! You've got zilch." Mai massaged her temples and rolled her eyes heavenward for patience.

"Look," Zuko whispered past his clenched teeth, "if it comes to that, you and Ty Lee take Sokka out  _ gently _ , don't hurt him more than the bare minimum to be convincing that you haven't thrown the match, but you leave Azula for me alone, clear ?"

"But you  _ are _ basically asking me to throw the match." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Because face it, we could have him down and out before you could say  _ My Honour." _

Now, Zuko prayed for patience. "I'm serious Mai, don't hurt him. This isn't  _ his _ fight."

"And yet he's your partner in the bloodiest MMA event of the last five years !"

"Hey, I only asked him on  _ your _ prodding !"

"I told you to ask him to practice _ sparring _ with you ! Not for you to go down on one knee and pop the question whether he'd be your bloody valentine to this shit show!" She hissed. 

Something over his shoulder caught her attention then, her eyes widening. "We've been speaking of the devil too much, you've got incoming." She whispered, and then did that thing where girls disappeared into thin air.

" _ Zuzu _ !" Azula exclaimed with fake enthusiasm, that nickname like nails on chalkboard in the back of his head.

Feeling like he was walking a plank, Zuko turned slowly to face the bane of his existence.

"I'm so glad you got my invite and came to my party ! Maybe there's hope for you afterall." Her grin could scare a shark out of the water.

"I'm coming for you, Azula." he promised her, refusing to play her little mind-games and pander to her attempts at powerplay.

She dropped her pretense of civility too. "I look forward to it, big brother, especially since that was the very reason _ I  _ extended the invitation to you in the _ first place _ ." Her red-tipped nails gleamed in the low-light as she examined her cuticles. Azula liked to get her manicure done in a manner that represented her favourite hobby - tearing into people for fun. "Really, I haven't the foggiest idea what Mai saw in you. You really aren't the sharpest tool in the shed." The same line coming from Mai made him develop an acute case of the warm-fuzzies; coming from Azula, it made his vision turn red hot and fuzzy. Remembering his breathing exercises, Zuko tells her - "At least there  _ is _ something to be found within me. Unlike the soulless void that you hide in your skin suit."

"Ooh Zuzu ! You're improving. That last one almost stung."

His retort was on the tip of his tongue, ugly and all but clawing its way out of his mouth when someone goes loudly, "Am I interrupting something ?"

Both Zuko and Azula turned to spare the guy with the world's most atrocious sense of timing a venomous look. Except it's Sokka. Sokka, who cuts his eyes to Azula and away so subtly that Zuko almost misses it. His partner was deliberately giving him an out of the conversation, trying to  _ rescue _ Zuko. 

"Do I know you?" Azula sniffed.

"The name's Fire,  _ Wang _ Fire." Sokka hammed up the smooth mofo tone. 

"Pleasure," replied Azula in the same tone one might employ when repeating the term  _ Gonorrhoea _ .

"And what might be your name, beautiful ?"

Azula laughed. Cackled. "You'll find out soon enough when I wipe the floor with you and your partner here."

"Ah," said Sokka. "I generally try to maintain a healthy distance from all floors at all times."

Azula spared him one last look of disdain before she turned back to Zuko. "Slumming it, aren't we ?" She jerked her chin towards Sokka, the way his warpaint was slightly smudged, a few bright orange crumbs down his front.

Zuko's fists balled up. He was opening his mouth to say the most cutting, nasty thing that would come out when Sokka tugged his sleeve hard.

"Well it was certainly an experience meeting you," Sokka told her politely, dragging Zuko with him like a particularly reluctant balloon. "Let's never do this again."

Azula watched them leave, her lips twisted in the smile of someone who had got in the last word in spirit, if not in action.

"Care to tell me who the hell was  _ that _ ?!" Sokka hissed when they'd put enough distance between themselves and Azula.

"That," spat Zuko with all the distaste he could muster, "was Azula."

"Great ! Very helpful." Huffed Sokka. "Would you be so kind as to elaborate on  _ why _ Azula warrants the distinct honour of her name being repeated in the same tone usually reserved for  _ Brussels sprouts ?  _ Or  _ Turnips.  _ Eugh _. _ "

"Because she's my younger sister who I have to fight and defeat in the finals for the right to rejoin this household and stake my claim to ownership of the family business." Zuko got that out in a single breath, feeling a headache coming on.

"Sorry what?" Sokka stuck his pinky into his ear and jiggled it around. "I think I misheard you tell me you have to go all gladiator on your sibling to get back under your psycho father's thumb again, full offense."

Zuko shook his head, sighing. "On my father's side of the family, traditionally ownership of the dojo would be passed onto the sibling who beat the others in a single fight. It started out as a small, informal ceremony - a means for merit to decide the rightful inheritor of the dojo. The ownership wouldn't necessarily pass onto the eldest child if they weren't the best. For example, although the fight between Chaeryu's sons, Chaejin the older and Zoryu the younger was a close one, Zoryu prevailed. And for that matter, if the potential inheritor was an only child, it was fair game for any member of the dojo to challenge them for the title of Sensei and ownership. It's never happened that they lost however." Zuko tried to keep the note of pride out of his voice at that.

"But like everything else about this place that they corrupted, Sozin and Azulon turned this ritual into a bloody spectacle, combining it with their blasted Sozin's championship. When they came of age, my uncle defeated Ozai in the tournament, and the business would have rightfully passed to him once grandfather Azulon died. In this family, that's the only way one truly retires." He shot a look at Sokka to check how he was taking this piece of news so far. It was impossible to really tell what he was thinking with the warpaint cloaking his features. Zuko resumed the telling of his story with clenched teeth. Sokka was going to know exactly how messed up Zuko's background was, and there was no coming back from this now. Might as well see it through to the bitter end.

"My father would still hold shares and have a say in the running of some of the other outlets set up, but that would be the extent of his authority. Winning Sozin's is a matter of pride. It represents the unquestionable honour to lead the gym and it's students, and the outcome of the final match is unquestionable and binding."

Sokka sucked in a deep breath. "Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you rich people ?!" He exploded. "Why can't you just go to court like  _ normal _ fucked up families to endure a long, agonising and financially draining trial ?"

Zuko winced. "I haven't been totally straight with you," he admitted. And I'm sorry about that. You can quit right now if you want to, no hard feelings, I promise." Zuko meant every word, but that didn't stop the creeping numbness from leaching into his core. He needed to come clean to Sokka though. Zuko owed him atleast that much.

Sokka waved him off impatiently

"So the final boss is supposed to be your sister, huh ?"

Zuko nodded, miserable.

Sokka frowned, but it wasn't directed at Zuko, like he'd expect. "What about the other participants in the tournament ? Doesn't it ever happen that two fighters  _ other _ than members of your family reach the finals?"

Zuko shrugged. "It hasn't happened yet in those years that members of my family participated to fight for the title.The way we see it, if you aren't good enough to even reach the finals, forget winning the title, you don't deserve to be a part of the gym itself."

Sokka crossed his arms. "Gee, that sounds  _ really _ fair to you and Azula, and I guess Iroh and your father before you both." He drawled sarcastically. "You're up against  _ everyone _ here," he gestured broadly at the expansive crowd, "rather than just a few challengers from back when the dojo was much smaller, or just your sibling even."

As if to drive his point home, a gigantic guy with a sideways eye painted on his forehead stalked past, leering at them.

Zuko scratched absently at the edge of his scar. "Well, the gym is much larger now too. It's supposed to be a proportionate challenge." Sokka's eyes tracked the movement, and Zuko dropped his hand, abruptly self-conscious.

Sokka hesitated for the first time. "You just mentioned losing resulting in not being part of the gym itself. Like the way  _ you _ currently are." He said carefully. "You don't have to answer, but does this have anything to do with how your father gave you that scar ? Wouldn't you and Azula have been too young to duke it out five years ago at the last Sozin's ?"

Zuko smiled wryly. "Neither of us was participating last time."

"But your father- I mean how else- ?" Sokka stumbled over his words.

A half shrug this time. "I wasn't  _ officially _ a participant. Didn't mean I couldn't be challenged to fight."

Sokka blinked, shaking his head. "I am very confused right now."

Zuko focused on his breathing again, centering himself as best he could. Now was not the time to get lost in his own head, memories of Lu Ten helpless on the mat, Ozai towering over Zuko.

"I was seventeen and watching one of the bigger fights. This man, Shinu, he'd already got his opponent down and pinned, but he choked the guy out anyway. It was over, he'd won, but Shinu just wouldn't let go and the boy on the floor was turning blue." Zuko exhaled consciously. Inhaled again.

"The referee wasn't doing anything, he wasn't even trying to separate them." Zuko laughed. "It was only later that I found out his inaction was on the direct orders of my father to do nothing. It's only over when the winner decides it is." Zuko knew his recounting of this story would have twisted his face into something ugly by now. He inhaled, exhaled.

Sokka's face was frozen, masklike. "You jumped in. You tried to separate them." he whispered past unmoving lips.

At the time, all Zuko had been able to think about was Lu Ten, all he'd been able to see was his cousin instead of the unknown boy pinned under Shinu. 

Nobody had stepped in when Lu was being beaten to death.

At the time, all Zuko had been able to think was -  _ Not again. Not another Lu Ten. _

"I scaled the mesh and got into the cage, pulled Shinu off the kid. He couldn't have been much older than me, and he was out cold."

The booing of the crowd filled his ears now. 

"My father got into the cage himself. He challenged me to fight him right there, because by breaking the rules of Sozin's to not interfere in a fight, I'd insulted him directly." 

Zuko closed his eyes, unable to see the judgement that would undoubtedly be writ upon Sokka's face. "I refused to attack my own sifu. My own father. He didn't like that." Zuko smiled bitterly, feeling the way his scar pulled taut over the bone and muscle. 

Zuko remembered how the cage had been lowered for Ozai to enter the octagon. The jets of yellow flame which shot up from the hidden gas vents at the base of the platform. Nothing more than a dramatic fixture, a prop on the stage of violence. But even props could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Zuko remembered the pain in his scalp as Ozai dragged him by the hair to the nearest vent. The overwhelming nausea when he realised what was about to happen to him. When you were that scared, Zuko reflected, some of your senses sharpened while others dulled to nothing. Maybe there had been screams from the crowd when they too, like him, realised what they were about to witness. He doesn't remember anything but silence. The memory is unfailing quiet, but his nose won't ever rid itself of the odour of charred flesh, even though he knew he'd lost consciousness by then.

Zuko cleared his throat, wrenching himself back to the present. "I'll spare you the gory details, but daddy dearest decided to teach me a permanent lesson on my face."

* * *

The ride back to BSS where Sokka had parked was awkward, but not unbearably so. For the most part, Sokka seemed to have taken everything in stride.

He hugged the bag of Flaming Foods to his chest. 

"Well, that wasn't a terrible first date," he ventured tentatively as he undid his seatbelt.

Zuko spluttered. "That was not a date !"

"Uh," Sokka began counting off on his fingers, "We dressed up," he pointed to their face paint, "You picked me up, took me to a stuffy, exclusive place, bought me food, we watched a movie - ok  _ I _ watched a movie, you kept interrupting with snide commentary about subversive propaganda, but, same energy- we talked about your family, and you gave me a lift back. That was pretty much a standard date, dude."

Zuko did his best impression of a fish, while Sokka lovingly gathered up his bag of health food and got out of the car.

He leaned down, looking in at Zuko through the open window, uncharacteristically serious. "Before you really start to stew in every doom and gloom scenario you're cooking up in that head of yours, I'm not going anywhere. We're in this together, partner." Sokka stuck his fist into the interior, gently bumping his knuckles against Zuko's hand frozen on the gearshift. Without waiting for Zuko's response he turned and strolled away. "See you at BSS!" Sokka called, hanging the bag on the handle bars and starting up his bike.

It was five solid minutes after Sokka left before Zuko could drive off again.

* * *

He tried to be quiet as he crept into the dark apartment.

"How was your not-date ?" 

Zuko jumped as he hit the light switch and Iroh appeared, snuggled up in the armchair. 

"Uncle," he chided, heart jackrabbiting, "I told you not to wait for me." 

"I didn't, I took a nap." Iroh smiled sleepily.

Zuko's throat tightened with the overwhelming affection he felt towards this man. "C'mon let's get you to bed. You'll get a crick in your neck and I'm gonna be the one who'll have to massage it out."

"Ah Zuko, I am waiting for the day you'll brew tea as well as you give neck massages." Iroh patted Zuko's shoulder and yawned massively.

Zuko snorted. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

Iroh hummed. "That's what they all want you to believe."

"Good night uncle," he shook his head as Iroh trudged into his room and belly flopped into bed. Zuko rolled his eyes but came in and tucked the covers over him. Iroh sighed in contentment.

He was just about to close Iroh's room door when his uncle said softly, "You never said, how was your evening ?"

Zuko swallowed. He thinks about the blue facepaint he'd carefully wiped every trace off in the car, the small jar of fire gummies Sokka had vehemently insisted he keep in the glovebox for  _ emergency snack time. _

He thinks about Azula's last unreadable look, Mai's wrapped hand in his own. The fist bump Sokka had left him with through the open window.  _ Partner _ .

"It was nice,” Zuko says in a small voice.


	7. (You Gotta) Fight for Your Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...to Paartaayy
> 
> Freaking finally.

There is training.

And then there's _Training -_ the difference being Zuko. Who determinedly appoints himself as Sokka's personal drill sergeant.

The Sokka of one week prior would have thought it a blessing in disguise.

The Sokka of one week later, is older, wiser, and knows it to be anything but.

Zuko was an excellent teacher, if stricter than a nun in catholic school. He was fierce, pushing Sokka to his limits and demanding dedication. The thing was, whatever he expected from Sokka, Zuko gave back tenfold. This _would_ have been the _blessing_ part.

Zuko was also scarily competent. And _competence_ ? Instant turn-on. Always had been. And _that_ , was getting to be a problem.

NARB's were an inconvenient, but mostly harmless part of life. Heck, it wasn't unknown for a sparring partner to spring one, laugh it off until things were back under control, and then keep up the training like nothing had happened.

Except, it's not justifiable to label it a No Apparent Reason Boner, when the reason was _very_ apparent and _very_ shirtless and very, very _there_ all the time.

Sokka felt terrible. And vaguely sleazy for the sheer number of times he unconsciously ended up checking out the guy's very fine backside. Sure, he'd joked that Zuko had taken him out on a date, but he'd just been yanking the guy's tail at the time. Mostly.

His blatant but previously non-convoluted objectification of a hot dude is complicated by the fact that Sokka now knew that Zuko was spoken for. He'd had his suspicions about Zuko and Mai being together back when she'd still been coming to BSS, but he'd never given it much thought then since it hadn't really been any of his business.

It _still_ wasn't any of his business, but it was getting significantly harder (heh) to convince himself of that fact now that he was around Zuko so often. Any doubts Sokka had had about Zuko being taken had been cleared when he'd seen the way Zuko had sought her out on the opening night. The way he'd laughed wide and sparkling, and lifted Mai clear off her feet, the naked happiness on his face so obvious.

He didn't stand a chance, Sokka thought with a twinge of disappointment, which was made all that much suckier by the fact that he hadn't even _wanted_ a chance. Until now.

It had been so much easier when Zuko had just been Angry Hot Gym Guy, nothing more than an aggressively attractive face in his peripheral vision.

It had been easier when Sokka hadn't been privy to the crap hand life had dealt the guy (honestly, there were supervillain origin stories floating out there _way_ less compelling than Zuko's. Sokka was just saying, if Zuko decided to turn into a Sith lord, he wouldn't blame him).

It had been easier, before Zuko became a real _person_. Somebody who's ambitions and fears were apparent and tangible. 

It had been easier, before Zuko became his friend.

Because that _is_ what they were now. Or they were decidedly headed in that general direction at least. And Sokka felt like a heel for thinking about Zuko that way, especially because of the sheer amount of _touching_ involved while they train.

Day one after opening night, Zuko had made Sokka demonstrate every single takedown move he knew, footwork, strikes, clinches- the works. He'd watched everything in Sokka's repertoire with that same calculating thoughtful look on his face, and then had drilled Sokka on a whole bunch of moves he'd never seen or heard of before, smoothly flowing between styles.

"Hell yes ! Training montage !" Sokka had crowed with glee.

"There won't be any Eye of the Tiger involved." Zuko cautioned before things truly got out of hand. Sokka had looked at him, arms still raised in (now moot) celebration. "What kind of a monster are you ?" He'd demanded.

"The kind who knows you'll just start air drumming midfight," Zuko muttered, wrapping his hands.

"I can multitask !" Sokka's protests had fallen on deaf ears.

Two hours and a nearly empty gym later, Sokka had flopped onto the mat. "This is payback for making you wait so long for an answer, isn't it ?" He'd groaned.

"Not in the least," Zuko had told him with warm eyes and a cool smile.

And that was pretty much how every evening for the next week went. 

The smell of Dettol clings to his skin, lingering even after any number of post-training showers with how much time Sokka's spending in the gym. He'll catch a whiff of it in class, add _laundry_ to his mental to-do list for the day and try not to let his thoughts wander to places they have no business being.

"Once they get you under them on the mat, it's game over. These guys won't hesitate to drive an elbow into your face until they've got your teeth sticking out of their skin." Zuko promised, grim faced.

"Eh, I've been in the market for a new orthodontist anyway. Was thinking of getting custom veneers, maybe vampire fangs."

Zuko scowled for all his worth, eye twitching ever so slightly. "This isn't a joke."

"Oral hygiene _is_ a very serious matter," Sokka swore, hand to his heart. "Crowns aren't cheap, y'know ?" Because truth be told, Sokka was nervous. Nervous about looking like an inexperienced fool in front of Zuko right now, and in front of a gym full of spectators at the match. He was nervous about being the reason they lost a fight. And when Sokka was nervous, he fell back on humour, however terrible it might be.

Out of the blue, Zuko threw a punch. Sokka barely saw it coming, ducking aside at the very last moment.

"Good," Zuko approved, and then proceeded to dance around Sokka, reigning down blows and forcing him to step out of kicking range as he mixed moves so quickly Sokka could barely pick out the pattern, any of Zuko's tiny tells. It was all he could do to be on the defensive, dodging and weaving around the hurricane that was a pissed off Zuko.

"You can't avoid going on the offensive forever," Zuko grunted between blows. "And if you don't learn to fight back," he landed a hit on Sokka's ribs, making him stumble,"then they're gonna fight you to the floor," Zuko moved in close, and then flipped Sokka the same way Sokka had shown him that first time, slamming the breath out of Sokka. Zuko brought his elbow down towards Sokka's face, stopping millimetres away from his nose. Sokka went cross-eyed trying to keep it in focus.

"And once you're on the floor, there's not much you can do."

He planted a knee on Sokka's chest and leaned in to glare at Sokka. "So I suggest you start taking this seriously."

Sokka coughed, pushing Zuko's arm away. "Alright, you've made your point. Could I please get a refund on my pride now that you've thoroughly broken it ?"

Zuko snorted but let him up, softening ever so slightly.

"The trick is to always always stay out of reach until you're ready for a takedown, and then to drop them first. But," Zuko held up a finger, "in the event that you _do_ end up pinned, you absolutely, a 100%, _need_ to be able to get out of the hold."

Zuko prodded Sokka with his toe when he dawdled getting up.

"Your footwork is already excellent, so you should have no problem dodging. But like I said, you can't dodge forever and a grapple at some point is unavoidable unless things go badly enough that you get knocked out cold. But if you can't _escape_ a grapple, you don't stand a chance. And even if you aren't flat on the mat but just sitting down when your opponent is still standing, one good kick to the face and that's a broken jaw."

"So, no sitting down, no lying down and no asking for belly rubs or walking on the grass. And no damage to this expanse of perfection." Sokka gestured to his face. "Got it." He shot Zuko double finger guns.

"On the contrary, since we're going to be working on your floor skills, today will _only_ be about sitting down, lying down, and don't even bother with keeping off the grass." Zuko's smirk was not very reassuring. "By the time we're through, you'll be slipperier than an eel. They can't beat you if they can't _hold_ you long enough."

As ~~threatened~~ promised, Zuko starts Sokka on escaping everything from basic leg locks, to sprawls, to controls back and side, and mounts. By the end of the 4th evening, Sokka was sure he could Houdini his way out of most of the commonest pins possible.

And that's when he starts to see the problem.

With how long and intense their sparring sessions went on, it wasn't surprising that, like that first day, they would frequently draw in a small gaggle of gawkers from the gym.

Gawkers, who shuffle away muttering about how quick their fights get over, how fast Zuko could take down Sokka. Nobody really cares to watch Sokka getting _out_ of the pins. The problem, he realises, wasn't that he was getting beaten. It was that he was getting beaten too _quickly._

A typical UFC fight lasted fifteen minutes, and even with Sokka's newly honed skills of breaking holds and general fleet-footed dodging, most of their bouts ended under nine.

And knockouts were only good as the cherry on top, the satisfying culmination of an entertaining fight with plenty of back and forth in the interim. People weren't paying to see martial excellence - it had, and always would be a case of bread and circuses. Entertainment.

On their fourth evening practicing together, Sokka calls an emergency strategy meeting.

"I hereby convene the first war-room assembly between the entities Blue Spirit and Wang Fire."

"It's just the two for us, Sokka." Zuko pointed out, long suffering.

"All the more reason to stand on ceremony ! This is important." Sure that he had Zuko's complete attention, Sokka led with, "So, how much WWE are you familiar with ?"

Zuko actually looked over his shoulder to check whether that comment was directed at him. And then he just looked pissed when it was clear that it was a serious question. "I know there's more sequins than necessary and a bunch of choke-slamming ?"

Sokka took a moment to process that. "I'm gonna pretend that you didn't just diss the magnificent spectacle of entertainment that is WWE." Zuko made a face at him. Sokka held up a finger to stop the inevitable angry interruption from Zuko. "I'll get to the point-"

" _Thankyou,"_

"-that we're, well, _you_ , are winning too easily."

Zuko raised his eyebrows, highly skeptical. "I'm failing to see the problem in that."

"No no, I mean you need to be more _performative_. Give people a show, that's what they're there for afterall. Give them their buck's worth of actual fighting, and not just a super efficient K.O."

Zuko scowled, the way Sokka knew he would, about to retort with how bad an idea he thought that was. Sokka already had his opening and closing statements ready.

"Zuko, you're excellent, no contest. But you need to give the audience a chance to _see_ that for themselves. I know it goes against the grain, but you need to know when to put on a show, and when to drop the other guy. Read the mood of the crowd - if they're screaming for blood, give it to them. More folks paying to watch you means you're turning a profit for the gym - the organisers will try to keep you as their golden goose for as long as possible in the competition. That's what we need - eyeballs and money."

Zuko's jaw worked, no doubt chewing on every counterargument he could come up with. But Sokka's logic was bulletproof.

"WWE, see ?" He coaxed gently. "The fights may be all pre-decided, scripted and somewhat staged affairs, but ask any dude in the stands cheering if it isn't the best fight he's seen and worth every dollar."

Zuko huffed, the sigh of one defeated and reluctantly giving in to something they wanted to disagree with but couldn't. "A showy fight is a messier fight. More chances of getting hurt. Of reading your opponent wrong and mistiming your takedown. I don't like this. I don't _do_ messy." He grimaced, crossing his arms.

"A showy fight is what people _want_ to see. Winning the audience over in the early fights is important to our sustainability as crowd favourites, which, I don't know about you, but Wang Fire is _all_ about."

Zuko mulled it over for a minute. "Ok fine I'll-" he shuddered, " _showboat,_ I guess. But that still leaves _you_."

"Hey !" Sokka backed away from the unnervingly calculating expression on Zuko's face. "Wang's already got his schtick all figured out remember ? I do my fleet-footed, Can't-keep-a-good-man-down routine, and win over hearts as the _normal_ dude, the relatable, non-ninja guy who let's the spectators live vicariously through his exploits of-"

"It's not enough." Zuko cuts across him, which _rude_ (even if Sokka knows it's true)

"If I'm not allowed to beat the competition before they can get to you-"

"I'm not chopped liver, you know !" Sokka squawked indignantly. 

Zuko fixed him with a Look™ worthy of Mai, the Perennially Unimpressed. "You're still dead meat if you can't land a powerful enough strike. Or manage a decent takedown when the opportunity arises."

" _My_ takedowns are just _fine,_ " Sokka spluttered.

Zuko shook his head, looking a tad smug now. "Oh yeah ? Go on then, show me."

He settled into a ready stance and crooked two fingers, smirking. Sokka complied, circling around Zuko looking for an opening. As usual, he got in a couple of solid hits and a decent kick, but Zuko didn't leave him with any good openings for a proper takedown.

"If we're gonna be drawing out the fight, you can't rely on dodging hits the way you usually do. You'll just tire yourself out, and then you won't have the strength left to keep your opponent locked down when you do get the chance for a takedown." Zuko barely sounded winded. "So what I'm suggesting is, you soften them up, and then _I_ do the mat work of keeping them down. We don't have enough time before the first match to tune up your pins, but we can work on your strikes, and then work on pins next week." 

"You're awfully confident that we'll still be around next week," Sokka exhaled, trying an experimental jab. Zuko merely scoffed in response. Sokka reaches too far though and doesn't back away quick enough, allowing Zuko to grab his arm and yank him in before wrestling him to the floor. "Let me tell you something about me," Zuko panted above him as Sokka brought his arms up to protect his face from the hits Zuko was attempting to land. " _I don't pick the losing side_." Zuko lands a particularly vicious hit to Sokka's solar plexus, and momentarily stunned breathless, Sokka dropped his guard as he gasped for breath. 

"So it's decided then. We try and get you a chance to K.O. your opponent, or atleast keep the other guy down when you get him on the mat." Zuko's breath tickled his ear as he pinned Sokka even tighter to the mat with a forearm across his neck.

Sokka sucked in a deep breath and got out of the hold, arms trembling from fending off Zuko's powerful punches. It's a close shave and his heart thumps wildly against his ribs. 

Almost as if he could hear Sokka's bounding pulse, Zuko pulled back with one last, blazing look at Sokka. "Takedowns. _Now_."

* * *

Zuko pulled into the parking space and killed the engine. It's a lot like the last time they were here- Sokka could barely believe it had just been a week- but tonight, his gut roiled with nerves strung tightly over the cold spikes of adrenaline. 

Like last time, Zuko asks quietly, "You ready ?" He's staring straight forward through the windshield, looking determined if somewhat grim. A steady stream of people were already making their way into what was an apparently closed gym, the shutters pulled down.

Sokka gulped, barely wetting his parched throat. "Guess it's a good thing I skipped dinner, huh." He exhaled, psyching himself up for the night ahead of them. "C'mon then, time to take ass and kick names." He's about to push open the door when Zuko stops him.

"Wait," he twists in his seat to dig around in his bag for something. For one naive moment of hopefulness, Sokka wondered if Wang Fire's confiscated beard was about to make a reappearance. Instead, Zuko resurfaced with a small tub of vaseline. "Can't go in without our warpaint." He smiled, even though they've already painted on their respective masks.

If Sokka's throat was dry before, it was nothing compared to how dessicated it turned now. 

He held very _very_ still as Zuko rubbed swathes of the stuff over his cheekbones, the heat of his fingers lingering where they passed over the bony prominences.

"Done." Zuko pronounced all too soon. Sokka hadn't realised his eyes had fallen shut. Zuko gently mimed a punch to Sokka's face, knuckles lightly skimming the freshly greased skin. "Don't want your face all messed up for class."

"Your turn," Sokka told him, taking the tub from Zuko to return the favour.

(He tries not to think about how warm Zuko's skin was, how warm he _always_ ran, how Zuko would need to shave soon, what that stubble might feel like against his own neck-)

Sokka cleared his throat. "So, did your time as cornerman, huh ?" 

Sokka felt the shift of muscle below his fingertips as Zuko's mouth curved up in a small smile.

"Just a couple of times when I was a kid, for my cousin Lu Ten. But mostly, once I was doing the youth circuit, I would fight and Mai doubled as my cutman."

He pushed his hair back from his forehead to reveal a fine scar, almost invisible in the dark, just above his eyebrow on the unburnt side. "Steady hands and excellent with a blade. I could barely see past the swelling after I took that hit," he reminisced, eyes faraway. "Two minutes of her working on me, and I was good to go again. Won that fight too," He smirked.

Sokka realised he'd long since finished greasing Zuko's face and yanked his hands back from where they were in very real danger of caressing Zuko's face.

"I kinda miss the crazy music tonight," Sokka babbled.

At that, Zuko inexplicably brightened a little. "This one year, Lu cut a deal with the DJ to play the Mortal Kombat theme everytime somebody won by knockout. The audience was ready to riot by the semi-finals, their ears were all but bleeding. And nobody ever found out it was him behind the whole thing." Zuko snickered. 

"Oh hey, so should I be on my best behavior in case of another impromptu family reunion tonight ?" Sokka asked, fascinated at the little glimpse into Zuko's past. Lu Ten sounded like Sokka's kind of dude, and he surely couldn't be worse than _Azula_.

The smile dropped off Zuko's face like a stone. "No. You won't be meeting Lu Ten tonight. Or ever, not on my watch. C'mon," he grunted, shoving open the car door. "We've got work to do."

* * *

Sokka's whiplash at the sudden change in Zuko's mood (and his bafflement at the ominous _Not on my watch_ , like, what was up with _that_?) was quickly forgotten in the blur of strobe lights, the crush of bodies, registering for their fight and then lining up along with the other participants in their assigned group at the cage itself.

The inside of the gym had been completely transformed since the last time Sokka had seen it. The huge space was plunged into semi-darkness, punctuated with splashes of neon from the display boards which were flashing names and pictures of the fighters. Sokka caught a quick flash of the Blue Spirit and Wang before it skipped onto someone else. 

They had to push past hundreds of jostling people to reach their cage, and Zuko firmly grabbed him by the shoulder as he shouldered through the crowd to keep from losing Sokka. For the most part, Sokka thought he held his own at elbow-jockeying people out of his way pretty well, but he had nothing on the way even a single look from Zuko made men and women simply melt out of his path.

The first round of matches would put groups of 15 fighters together in the cage, and the last ones standing when the bell rang 10 minutes later would move onto the next round. Brutal, but efficient when it came to eliminating competitors quickly and entertainingly.

There was no weigh-in to bother with, just the promise of a true free for all.

The only staredowns would be in the cage itself, right before they'd knock gloves and the referee yelled _Go to war !_

Sokka and Zuko stood back to back, silently sizing up the competition as they waited for the group to fill up. It was easy to tell which of the fighters were newbies - they were young, completely alone, and looked absolutely petrified. Because the other more experienced fighters clearly knew how things were done around here and had already struck deals or alliances with each other pre-match (not to mention, they were looking at the vulnerable ones like fresh chum).

A guy so thickly muscled that he could give a tree an inferiority complex was sending them the stink-eye. A nasty grin slowly unfurled across his face. "Hey, pretty boys!" He hollered, turning half the heads of their group of fighters and a good number of looks from the crowd of spectators just beyond the waiting area.

Sokka didn't turn - he had his looks, he knew that, but this wasn't the situation in which to acknowledge that sort of label- the good-looking ones were considered soft targets, inexperienced because they clearly hadn't gotten their faces rearranged in enough fights. Sokka was sure Zuko was experienced enough to know this was the sort of taunt to be ignored, even if one _was_ as stunning as Zuko.

Zuko doesn't just turn, oh no.

The over-protective dumbass wheeled around entirely and put himself squarely in front of Sokka, making it clear they were a unit. Unquestionably casting Sokka as the weaker of the two and in need of guarding. The assumption wouldn't be _wrong_ per se, but Sokka wanted to facepalm so hard right then because Zuko had just gone and painted a big red bullseye on Sokka's back. Now that the meanest kid on the playground had picked his mark, everyone was going to try and take the both of them out first, Sokka thought with a huff.

The giant rumbled a laugh when he caught sight of Zuko dead-on. "Not so pretty from the other side, are you, slim ?"

Sokka began edging out from behind Zuko, creating space for himself in case this fight started before they'd even gotten into the cage and he needed to move fast. He just about stopped himself from squeezing Zuko's shoulder in sympathy at that insult. 

"Doesn't matter," the big asshole continued, "you're gonna thank me for giving you a matching set of eyes when I'm through with you."

Zuko bared his teeth. "Like I haven't heard _that_ one before." He chuckled, a soft, menacing sound of derision. "Silly of me to expect originality from a guy as clearly brain damaged as you though. Might wanna see a neurologist about all those old concussions of yours."

The giant snarled. "You're dead meat, you little twerp."

The mesh around the octagon finished its mechanised ascent at that moment, closing in the cage. The lights over the entire arena went out, plunging everything into pitch darkness except for the bright spotlights that glared down on the two groups of fighters at opposite sides of the floor. And then a high wall of flame blazed to life just outside the mesh from hidden gas vents in the platform, instantly raising the temperature as it cast an eerie, flickering illumination over the ring. 

Besides him, Sokka watched Zuko stiffen momentarily in the harsh glow from the sodium lights, before he very deliberately blew out a deep breath and relaxed again. 

The crowd screamed it's approval. Even if someone got cold feet and scaled the wall of the cage, trying to vault over the top, they'd be launching themselves out of the frying pan and into literal fire. The message was clear - nobody leaves until _we_ say so. 

Heart nearly leaping out of his throat, Sokka and Zuko ascended the short flight of stairs and through the single, flame-free entrance to the cage with the rest of the fighters. Despite the dry heat from the fire on either side, Sokka had to repress a shiver. 

And then a klaxon was blaring the start of the fight.

It's absolute carnage from the get go. If there's commentary of any sort, Sokka doesn't realise it. He and Zuko remain back to back as far as possible, with Sokka edging around just that bit more to Zuko's blind side.

They'd agreed on strategy beforehand - join forces with the less experienced fighters. Not because of any misplaced sense of altruism, no - "The newbie to veteran ratio is generally kept pretty high. Part of the reason being the long time gap between Sozin's means that a lot of older fighters are in the twilight years of their career by the time the next tournament rolls, but also because watching the inexperienced ones get the tar kicked out of them is sort of the point of the first round meleé." Zuko had told Sokka in no uncertain terms.

"So we're going with the safety in numbers route ?" Sokka had frowned. "I dunno, but I generally prefer the quality over quantity approach."

Zuko shook his head. "Don't forget, technically, the two of us get lumped in with the noobs regardless of how much prior inside experience I may have had. No vet is going to cut any kind of deal with us."

The plan they'd come up with was solid - Let the younger, starry eyed fighters take on older, more experienced players. It would thin the herd and tire out the better fighters, leaving them already softened up for Zuko and Sokka to start picking off. 

"While it sounds good," Sokka mused, "the plan is sort of counterproductive to the aim of showing off our stuff. I mean, we should be actively picking flights, not waiting for scraps."

Zuko was grinning the grin of the manic. "Who said anything about not fighting ? This is the plan that _you'll_ be following."

"I already hate the plan that _you're_ gonna be following," Sokka told him apprehensively.

"No you don't. You're going to love it, because it's exactly what you'd have done if our places were reversed."

Sokka snickered. "You _could_ just call yourself a lean, mean, fighting machine unironically and I promise I wouldn't laugh."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Go on, tell me what _I'm_ going to be doing while you mingle with the other wide-eyed peasants such as yourself."

"You're going to pick the toughest guy in the ring and introduce him to the mat the hard way. A twofer of drawing in eyeballs and bragging rights."

"Nice of you to remind me of why I'm keeping you around," Zuko had grinned.

Now, as the heat from the flames warmed his back, Sokka and Zuko worked together like they'd been training together for years instead of mere days. 

Despite Zuko's earlier well intentioned but completely daft blunder of making Sokka look weak, luck was on their side given that Roid Rage also happened to be _the_ Tough Guy they, or more specifically Zuko had to beat.

Sokka loses track of Zuko within seconds of the fight starting as he fended off two punks at once. 

"C'mon lads, if you wanted a threesome, you just had to ask nicely !" He panted, weaving and ducking under their guards.

Somebody else slams into him from behind, and he gets pinballed violently between his new friends, managing to yank one down with him purely by chance, just about missing a knee to the nose. The guy he took down grabs the first one, pulling him off balance too.

Sokka elbows and punches his way through the tangle of limbs and springs up and out of the heap they've fallen into before anyone else decides to join the puppy pile from hell. The guy who'd knocked into him wasn't doing so well; he was busy trying (and failing) to get out of a choke hold from behind, and was already turning puce.

 _It's now or never_ , Sokka thought gleefully, and then took a flying leap onto the back of the dude doing the choking. The choker. Yeah.

"Now Bronco, buck for all your worth, yeehaw !" He yelled, holding on with his legs and nailing him repeatedly in the ribs. The guy was strong though, and he dropped, quite literally, his previous quandary to try and slam Sokka up against the mesh of the cage. Sokka realised it was coming well in time to drop off his back at the last moment, and then shove him off balance onto the hot mesh which he'd been about to grill Sokka on. The man howled, immediately charging after Sokka with outstretched arms. Only to be tripped by the Chokee, who had recovered enough by now to 

finish off the man with a neat hook-hook-uppercut combo.

"Thanks man," Chokee gasped, still the colour of a tomato.

"Aw, don't mention it," Sokka grinned, clapping a hand to his shoulder- and then neatly flipped him, knocking him out cold after a brief tussle.

All in all, it's a lot like bumper cars meets a Looney Toons free-for-all; the kind where a whirlwind circled the room with random limbs sticking out periodically while tufts of fur rained down.

He has no idea how much time had passed since the klaxon first went off, but Sokka frantically looked around for Zuko, who'd probably been duking it out with their favourite muscle-bound freak all this time.

Distracted as he is, Sokka doesn't see the incoming set of knuckles to his face, and he goes down hard seeing stars. Disoriented, Sokka got pinned and despite his best efforts to wriggle free, the guy kept him in a headlock tighter than a bear trap. Truly desperate and gasping for breath himself now, Sokka used the last of his precious oxygen to reach out, and then tickle the guy in the armpit. The man looked supremely offended for a second before his face spasmed and he loosened his hold on Sokka just long enough for him suck in the biggest gulp of air and then to land a kick to the guy's face and push himself free.

Sokka tackled him to the mat, and got to work on another K.O. This was the part Sokka didn't like, much preferring to win by forcing a submission, but there simply was no option for that in the first round meleé pattern. Sokka managed to knock him out just in time to see a blur of red, blue and white charge past him. He watched Zuko sprint forward and then _continue running_ onto the doubtlessly searing mesh of the cage itself, moving almost perpendicular to the ground as flames licked at his bare feet. Zuko kicked off the side, violently rattling the mesh and smoothly vaulted over the head of Roid Rage. Time held its breath for a second as Zuko arced over him, looking him dead in the eye even as the giant stared up in disbelief. Zuko reached out while still airborne, wrapping an arm around the man's neck only to topple the top heavy dude and slam him into the mat as he landed. There was a moment of silence so absolute Sokka would swear he could hear a single drop of sweat hitting the floor. And then the cheering erupted.

Like Sokka, the other fighters in the cage had paused to watch Zuko's showdown against RR, who now stirred feebly on the canvas. Zuko got to his feet from where he'd landed superhero style and stalked over to Sokka. Sokka couldn't hear Zuko over the hysterical chanting of _Blue Spirit! Blue Spirit !_ but he felt the shape of the words anyway when Zuko leaned in close beside his ear and rasped, " _Performative_ enough for you ?"

Sokka was still rebooting his brain as Zuko swung around, standing back to back with Sokka as he looked around for any incoming attacks. 

He needn't have bothered. Other than the two of them, it was just four other fighters who dropped their ready stances immediately, making no move to engage at the first sound of the buzzer. 

One of them, a lady dressed head to toe in black, her dark makeup impeccable even after kicking plentiful ass in the ring, aimed a lazy two fingered salute at Zuko. "Long time no see, Angry Boy." she drawled.

Zuko relaxed minutely, nodding at her. "Could say the same about you June. How's Nyla doing ?"

June's smirk turned into a more genuine smile at that. "Getting on in years, though her nose is still sharp as ever."

She raised an eyebrow at Zuko, cutting her eyes to Sokka. "Your boyfriend's too pretty for you, if you don't know that already. What were you thinking getting him involved in _this_ clusterfuck ?"

Zuko turned redder than his shorts. "Sok-I mean, Wang is _not_ my boyfriend !" Zuko hissed at her as the still standing fighters began exiting the ring through the section of mesh that had been lowered into the platform. Sokka could almost see the steam pouring out of Zuko's ears. "But babe, I don't want to keep us on the downlow anymore, let's shout it from the rooftops." He snickered at Zuko's discomfort.

"If you insist," June told Zuko coolly before slinking off into the crowd, looking smugly satisfied at getting a rise out of him.

Zuko put his face into his hands and groaned as they left the octagon."Just one night of blessed anonymity, is that too much to ask for ?" He pleaded of his gloves. Sokka threw an arm around him. "Cheer up my Spirited friend, be not Blue. We're second from the top in terms of points in our group," he said happily, pointing at the scoreboard where June was in first place, having taken down four fighters herself. "You should have seen yourself out there, literal fire, man." Sokka patted Zuko on the shoulder.

Zuko shot him a small smile as he finally looked up. "That _was_ sort of cool, wasn't it?"

"Dude," laughed Sokka, the residual adrenaline still making him feel buoyant and carefree, "that was _hot_ !" His words caught up to him then. "I mean judging by all the hyperventilating going on, your new fans definitely think so," Sokka backpedaled quickly. Careless. _Stupid_ . Teasing Zuko was only funny if he didn't actually _mean_ anything by it. But his partner was shaking his head, grinning now. "Hot works for me," Zuko said quietly content, and Sokka bites back his knee-jerk response of _It really,_ really _does._

* * *

"Ah nephew, you're home!" Iroh smiled warmly at him from his usual spot on the couch. Zuko was just about to tell him that he shouldn't have waited up, _again_ , when Iroh continued. "Would you please pass on my congratulations to the Blue Spirit on qualifying for the next round. I hear he acquitted himself most excellently tonight. And his partner, Mr. Fire, too." Iroh said lightly, as if talking about inventory for the shop.

Zuko froze for a second before he dropped his bag and kicked off his shoes with a snort. "Still having your hour long chats with Ming, I see."

His uncle shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. "Eh, maybe half an hour these days, she's busy with running the tournament."

Well, _this_ cat had stayed in the bag for longer than Zuko had expected, all things considered. No point beating around the bush now. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Sozin's sooner. But I won't apologize for accepting Azula's invitation. You _know_ that I need to do this, and you know why." He met his uncle's gaze unflinchingly.

The old man rose to his feet, shaking his head worriedly. "My boy, I would _never_ ask you to apologize for following your heart, and I'm the last person you need to explain yourself to."

Zuko had been prepared to defend his decision when faced with Iroh's disappointment in him, but hearing that still put him at ease, like sinking into a warm bed at the end of a long day.

Iroh reached out to Zuko across the room, as if wishing to clasp his hand. "You know that I care for you like a son, Zuko. I don't want to hold you back from living your life, making your own mistakes and learning from them. But this old man worries for you, because entering the Sozin's Championship _is_ a mistake, the cost of learning from which is too high. And so I must ask you to reconsider." He pleaded.

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself for making Iroh resort to practically begging.

"I can't. I'm sorry, uncle, but I've waited too long and lost too much to back out now. Winning this might be my only shot at ever being able to find my mother."

Iroh nodded sadly. "I was afraid you'd feel that way. Which is why I must point out that while you are free to choose for yourself, it is selfish and dangerous to make that choice for another. The boy who is your partner, he doesn't know what he's getting himself into."

"I explained everything to Sokka before he agreed to go through with this." Zuko grit his teeth. "He's a smart guy, he knows the risks."

"Have you told him about Lu Ten ?"

"I-" Zuko's throat jammed shut. "He doesn't need to know about Lu to understand that this is dangerous."

Iroh's expression hardened. "Then you're forcing him to put his life and health in your hands without even doing him the courtesy of letting him know that. You're responsible for him, Zuko, especially since it was you who got him involved in the first place. And if he's to get hurt, his wounds will be upon your head."

The familiar old curl of anger simmers in Zuko's gut. After Lu died, after Iroh was gone, after his mother left - the burn of that little spark had been his constant companion. For the most part, his only companion. He'd taken all the rage and hurt and abandonment and had poured it into the shape of his fists, the speed of his kicks and the force of his holds as he'd trained and trained until his anger could be harnessed into something that would never leave him- his skill. 

And now, the response was there, sitting heavy and defiant on the back of his tongue, souring his mouth as it mixed with his anger. But when he inspects it, that anger is not really his companion of old. That was turned outwards, always. 

The ire he feels now is turned inwards. Because Zuko knew that Iroh was right. Sokka hadn't seen how truly nasty Sozin's could get- it was all still one big adventure for him, bright and exciting and sprinkled liberally with finger food. 

Sokka hadn't been there that night to watch Lu Ten get turned into a bloody pulp under those same bright lights, to watch the way Iroh had begged for the referee, for _anyone_ to pull his opponent off Lu long past since he'd been knocked unconscious.

Sokka hadn't watched in stunned disbelief how the blood mist had sprayed when Lu Ten had coughed as he was carried out of the ring, more meat than man at this point.

Sokka hadn't rushed to the ER while he clutched his mother's hand, pleading _No no no no no_ of anyone with any mercy upstairs who might be listening.

It had been Zuko who'd watched the light go out of Iroh's eyes when it became clear that Lu wasn't going to wake up.

And even Zuko hadn't been able to look when they'd finally pulled the plug.

"I won't let him get hurt. I'll do my best to keep Sokka safe," he promised Iroh, the words barely a whisper. Promised _himself_.

Iroh closed his eyes, an uncharacteristic heaviness to his bearing. "You have always been a talented young man, Zuko, but you must stop to consider this too- will even _your_ best be enough ?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia for the un-MMA/Boxing-initiated like me - 
> 
> Apparently, plentiful Dettol is involved in keeping gear clean especially since there's a bunch of skin to skin contact, abrasions and some open wounds, and body fluids that can transfer a Staph. infection. Because who doesn't enjoy a good bout of bacteremia ! 
> 
> Before a match, a fighter's cutman/cornerman will usually put petroleum jelly on the most likely areas of impact, especially the fighter's face, making the skin more elastic and slippery, and hence less likely to tear.
> 
> And lastly,  
> Timeline for clarity -  
> Ages: Zuko is 21 currently, (Sokka is 20)
> 
> 5 years ago:  
> A 17 yr old Zuko intervened in a fight between Shinu and an unknown young man, was burned by Ozai and disowned. Iroh took him in, helped him get his GED and apply to college. He's been living with Iroh and working at the JD ever since.
> 
> 10 yrs ago:  
> Lu Ten (21 at the time) sustained severe trauma in the final of Sozin's. A coma and brainstem death later, was eventually taken off life support with Iroh's consent. Iroh left the family gym soon after, started training at BSS but retired for good within a few years (but not without remaining unbeaten for 600 days).  
> Ursa was still around at this point. She left just before Zuko turned 12.


	8. Bonding and other forms of chemistry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter. Oh man this chapter. It's actually half the reason I even started this fic, just so that I could shove in Aallll teh references.  
> Onscreen bonding whilst talking about nothing in particular and surviving science labs for the win.  
> Also, it's been years since I've seen the inside of a physics lab, so anything that sounds weird most probably is. Y'all know the drill ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

It's Thursday, and Sokka is ready to trade five years of his life for another five minutes of sleep.

That might just be the asking price too.

Instead he wrenches himself out of bed, books it to the shower and stands shivering in the cold spray until his brain is a minimum of 40% online.

They'd been working on Sokka's strikes this week, which of course meant that Zuko would first demonstrate the move slowly on Sokka himself, before then repeating it in real-time. With real power behind the blow.

In short, he'd been reaching for the can of Relispray just as often as the deodorant these days, and there's always a strip of paracetamol shoved into his wallet.

Suki had been shooting him worried looks since Tuesday when he'd fallen asleep mid-lecture whilst taking notes, only to continue sleep-writing. The result being the last three pages of his notes looking like someone had sicked ramen up onto them.

"You do know that I'll help anyway I can right ? With whatever it is that's going on with you." Suki told him while he hurriedly took down her perfect transcript of the lecture in the twenty minutes before his next class. "Hmm, love you too Suki," he muttered absently as he squinted at the Henderson-Hasselbalch equation. Something didn't look quite right there…

"Sokka." Suki had grabbed his face with both hands and gently made him look up at her. "You need to substitute the [HA] for TAH."

"Right," he mumbled, cheeks still sqooshed between her palms."I knew that."

She nodded solemnly. "I _know_ you do. You can do this stuff in your sleep, which _was_ what you were doing in class last week. It's the fact that you aren't _this_ week that's got me worried about you Sokka. You're _this_ close collapsing."

He patted her hands and pulled them off his face softly. "'M fine. Just been overdoing it at the gym these last few days."

Her eyebrows crawled up into her hairline. "There's overdoing it in the gym and then there's training to beat the Avatar. Have you even _looked_ in the mirror recently ?"

Sokka bit back a slightly hysterical chuckle. That was pretty much the same thing he'd said to Zuko the first time he'd introduced himself.

"Oh Mirror Mirror, 

how it weeps happy tears to see, 

my gorgeous visage."

Suki made a face at him, but she clearly wanted to smile as she scraped a finger over his stubble. "Well if you've got the haikus still coming strong, you can't be that badly off. But please shave. You either commit to the goatee or not at all." She grinned, waggling her eyebrows at him. Sometimes, Sokka wondered why they'd ever broken up in the first place. 

"It's November _somewhere_ in the multiverse," he argued. Suki's eyes softened as she pulled away the hand still on his cheek. "Someday, you'll present concrete proof of alternative universes, but that day isn't today." She still looked thoughtful though. "There's no upcoming local tournament as far as I know of, so what even are you training that hard for ?" Suki narrowed her eyes at him and Sokka was reminded exactly why they'd broken up afterall. Suki never backed down easily, and even though he loved her for it, they were just too similar in some ways, which hadn't helped in the long-term survival of their relationship.

Even fuzzy-brained as he was, Sokka knew that information regarding Sozin's was given on a need-to-know basis only. Toph was different because she'd already known about it's existence, but telling Suki about what he was caught up in would just needlessly worry her. 

He cleared his throat. "So," he whispered conspiratorially to her, feeling a pang at having to tell one of his best friends a half truth, "Remember Angry Hot Gym Guy Who-"

"- You May or May Not Have Had a Crush On ?" Suki's eyes glittered with amusement and the anticipation of fresh gossip. "As if you'd ever let me forget with how much you'd go on about him. What happened ?"

"Well there's been a few updates on that front. Firstly, he's been upgraded from Maybe to Definitely a Crush on. Secondly, turns out, he has a name !"

"I'd have never guessed."

"And thirdly, Zuko not only knows of my existence now, he's training with me too." Sokka finished with false smugness.

"I was under the impression he's something of a sourpuss ?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Eh," Sokka shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage, surprised at the stab of secondhand defensiveness he felt on Zuko's behalf, "he's not so bad. Still something of a sourpuss, but he's cool. We're cool."

"Sure." She snapped half her breakfast bar and handed it to him."But the Sokka I know is _practical_ more than anything and wouldn't be able to justify spending excessive amounts of time training if it's only to spend more time with his crush."

"Maybe I'm more romantic than I let on." Sokka replied archly, trying not to drop crumbs onto Suki's beautiful notes.

She snorted. "You managed to commision the fine art students to do a life-sized sandblasted bust of me as a mermaid. You _are_ more romantic than you let on. I'm surprised you haven't tried to climb up his balcony by now." Then she booped him on the nose, her pleasant expression at odds with the steel in her tone. "Don't think I won't get to the bottom of this."

Sokka tried not to audibly gulp.

* * *

He'd made more cash on that single fight night than he made in an entire three weeks of tutoring on the side. Sokka didn't even mind that the bills were ever so slightly sweaty, some still carrying the faint tang of Dettol.

But even the thought of the little (and optimistically soon-to-be-bigger) cash stash in his apartment wasn't enough to stave off the headache that throbbed behind his eyes after he finished his last class of the day and dragged himself off to the labs to work on his thesis experiment. Even the paracetamol didn't seem to be working, and the glare of the sodium lamp he'd set up behind the solutions he was testing had only served to worsen the sensation of his head being in a vice. Sokka grit his teeth and continued taking down readings.

If he tried to train today, even with Zuko pulling his punches, Sokka would probably lose a few teeth.

It was already dark outside, the last of the stragglers working on their own experiments having shuffled out zombie-like with a wave to him a few minutes ago.

Sokka heaved a sigh as he put his foot down on procrastinating anymore. It was just half an hour more to the regular time they'd have met up. "Man up and just tell him," he muttered to himself as he tapped out a message to Zuko, typing and deleting it five times before finally hitting send on: _Won't be able to make it to training today. My head (and my loneliness) is killing me ( and I must confess, I still believe, still believe!). Will catch up tomorrow I promise, sorry man._

Zuko probably wouldn't appreciate the Britney. Oh well. Not everyone had taste as fabulous as Sokka.

Sokka's phone buzzed with a reply almost immediately. 

_What's your location_

Sokka squinted at the message. Was Zuko planning on dropping by to whoop Sokka's ass for not being able to come train today ? He squinted some more at the screen; the short message stayed right there, not even the three typing dots blinking. Sokka decided that this was taking more brain cells than he had left to spare. He dashed off the science building's address and the floor he was on with the lab number, and got back to error calculation.

What felt like hours later but was actually only 20 minutes because headaches were a great medium through which to learn about time dilation and General Relativity, somebody cleared their throat at him.

Sokka didn't jump off his stool, but he did send his pen flying. It flew through the air like an olympic gymnast to hit Zuko square on the forehead.

"Tea," Zuko told Sokka stiffly, holding out a large thermos in one hand, and Sokka's wayward pen in the other.

"Tea?" Sokka repeated intelligently.

Zuko shook the thermos in response, the gentle sloshing evidently tea. When Sokka still remained glued to his stool, the incongruity of seeing Zuko in the _lab_ of all places, still wearing his tea service uniform and looking steadily more irritated, Zuko threw the pen at Sokka. It bounced off his chest and landed in his lap.

" _Why_ ?" Sokka goggled at him, brain finally unfreezing enough for him to get off his butt and take the proffered thermos. Was the tea a _metaphor_ for something ?

Zuko shrugged, still looking stiff and awkward. "That's Iroh's special extra strength hangover cure brew. I figured it would help."

"Yes," Sokka repeated, still not fully processing the situation,"I mean _no_ , I'm not _hungover_ on a Thursday evening, but why'd you get me _tea_ ?"

Zuko scowled. "You said you had a headache. I got you tea. If you don't want it, I can take it back," he grumbled.

Sokka rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes hard, until the phosphenes stopped shimmering behind his lids.

"So you aren't here to kick my butt for not showing up to practice today. And the tea _isn't_ a metaphor ?"

"I- What ?" Zuko blinked. "What metaphor ? How do you- _Why_ would I give you crap for having a _headache_ ?!"

"I don't know !" Sokka cried. "I mean, we're literally one day away from our next match, I thought you'd be furious that I was skipping out on practice."

Zuko rolled his eyes at Sokka. "Just how long have you been awake ?" He then seemed to take in Sokka's general appearance. "Don't answer that." 

Zuko stepped forward and pressed the back of his fingers to Sokka's forehead. His skin felt so blessedly cool, that Sokka unconsciously leaned into his hand, trying to follow it when Zuko pulled away. "You're slightly feverish," Zuko frowned. 

"I got a fever, and the only prescription is more Cowbell," Sokka agreed with Zuko solemnly.

"I'm begging here buddy, could you _please_ make sense,"

But Sokka was too busy caressing the thermos to explain, twisting it open to be hit by the almost intoxicating scent of whatever this brew was. He sniffed massively. "You got me _tea_ ," he moaned in unadulterated happiness. "That is the nicest thing anyone has done for me all day."

"It's just hot leaf juice," Zuko muttered.

"Uh, isn't that all tea though ?"

"That's what I _told_ Uncle !" cried Zuko. Evidently, this had been a sticking point with him for a while.

* * *

Sokka didn't have the foggiest idea what was in the tea, but it worked like magic. Within just ten minutes of finishing his first cup, the throbbing behind his eyes had already receded to the point that he felt no worse than he did getting up on a regular morning after a long session of training. He was clear headed enough by then to realise just how out of it he'd been earlier. Alas, this meant he'd have to go back over the readings he'd taken down, checking for any rubbish he might have written.

Zuko stood around and alternated between looking mildly uncomfortable, and observing Sokka with hawk-like intensity. 

"Quit your fretting, I'll be right as rain by the weekend. We can even do an extra long session tomorrow, if you've got the time." He told Zuko cheerfully as he finished the last of his crosschecks."All thanks to you, and whatever the heck Iroh puts into this." He shook his third cup at Zuko.

"I'm not worried about the _match_ ," Zuko glowered. "In fact, I'm actually pissed off that you'd think I'd be mad at you for being _unwell_. Like, what kind of an asshole do you take me for ?"

"Aww, you're worried about little old me !" Sokka cooed, and Zuko appeared to wonder why he'd even bothered in the first place.

"Still, don't worry, period." Sokka smirked and turned back to tinkering with the circuitry in front of him. "Today was just a minor speed bump on the road to our regularly scheduled beatdowns."

Zuko was silent for a while. Sokka looked up to find Zuko studying him contemplatively. "You're not Superman."

"Gee, thanks. Always fancied myself more of a Lois Lane though. Badass normie, you know ?"

Zuko appeared to silently pray for patience. "I mean, you can't keep pushing yourself without having to stop and catch your breath. I get that." He looked a little uncomfortable, probably because he was talking about _feelings_ and not instructing Sokka on fighting for a change, but Zuko forged on. "I know I've been pushing you extra hard, but knowing your limits and putting your foot down is a good thing."

Sokka wheeled around to face Zuko straight on. "Have you watched the Iron Giant ?"

Zuko blinked at the non-sequitur. "Uh, no."

Sokka put down his pen, settling in for the long haul. "Katara and I had watched it with our mom back when we were tiny. It's just a kids' movie, but at the same time, it's also _not_ just a kids' movie, you get me ?" 

Zuko shrugged. "You mean it's relevant even now that you've grown up ?"

"Exactly," Sokka was relieved, pleased by Zuko's grasp of what he was getting at. It wasn't an easy sentiment to put into words and a part of him was surprised at how quickly Zuko understood. "I won't spoil it for you because _man_ , you've gotta watch that film, but the message was _You are who you chose to be_."

"And what you're choosing to be right now is dead on your feet and spread too thin ?" Zuko asked pointedly. "You could have told me you needed a day off sooner. Or we could have done shorter sessions, I don't know. But I wouldn't have jumped to the conclusion that you were simply _flaking out_." Zuko was back to glaring at him by the end.

"Well I realise that _now_ , Zuko." Sokka told him patiently. "But my point is, regardless of whether you'd have been okay with me missing training or not, I chose to get into this bed with you." Sokka stumbled a bit on his choice of phrasing, but forged on regardless."It means taking responsibility for the times when things get tough. So who I'm _choosing_ to be is someone who isn't just around for when the going is good, even if that means I _am_ a little thinly spread right now." Sokka scratched at his stubbly cheeks. "Tough times pass, but the person we choose to be in those times carries forward." He blinked. "Ok wow, you can go ahead and write that down or just put it in a fortune cookie or something." Sokka turned back to his calculations, not quite able to meet Zuko's gaze after what felt like revealing a little too much of himself.

"You get all of that from a kid's movie ?" Zuko drummed his fingers on his thigh, looking around at this place that had _Sokka_ stamped all over it.

Sokka hummed. _"If I have seen further than others, it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants_. And in this case, quite literally Iron Giant. I'm not just a pretty face you know." Sokka flashed him a wolfish grin. When Zuko didn't look away, still seeming unimpressed, Sokka sighed. "Eitherway, I'll be fine by tomorrow, I promise. I'm just working late today to finish up some readings in advance for my thesis experiment, and then I won't need to spend so many lab hours in the coming weeks."

"I can help you with that." Zuko's tone brooked no argument and Sokka just had to smile. "I'd say you don't have to, but then you already knew that, didn't you? Fine, grab me a couple of multimeters and that box of galvanometers." 

* * *

Sokka hurried off in search of something, mumbling about albumin. Probably. Zuko looked around, hoping the instruments would somehow magically present themselves to him. He wasn't even sure what half this stuff looked like. Luckily, he spotted a tub neatly labelled 'Galvanometer' and brought it over. Sokka was already back at the desk, scribbling away on his sheets and adjusting the bright lamp that was set up behind a series of beakers.

"I thought you were right handed," Zuko said, surprised. Like most people, Sokka tended to lead into a strike with his dominant hand - the right in his case. Except he'd been writing all this time with his left.

Sokka looked up, absently spinning the pen over the knuckles of his left hand. "Uh, I write with my left, but do practically everything else with my right."

"So you're ambidextrous." Zuko was impressed, and ever so slightly envious. As a child, his father had tried to train it into him, to no avail. Sokka on the other hand, while left-handed used his right to lead, the rare cross-dominant MMA fighter. Excitement licked up Zuko's spine as he considered the world of opportunities that opened up for Sokka. If Zuko could just train him as a _Southpaw_ , focus on improving his cross and left low kick to make it faster, harder, more dangerous, Sokka would be deadly, and deadly meant safe...

"I guess, yeah." Sokka didn't seem to be too impressed. "I mean, some people can lick their elbow, others can shoot the wings off a fly-"

"That's a _movie_ , Sokka."

"-oh so you've watched _Wanted_ and all that metal bending bullets around cow carcasses nonsense but not the _Iron Giant_ -

"You were _saying_ ?"

" _-point_ is, real talent is more than just picking a skill at random at an early age and then sticking with it. It's something you're born with. And whether you choose to hone it or not, a talent for something stays with you life long, waiting in the wings."

Zuko frowned. "That's not completely true. One may have a natural proclivity towards something, even beginner's luck if you believe in that sort of thing, but without hard work, talent can fade away too." He crossed his arms, subconsciously digging in his heels. "And hard work and discipline can get you places even raw talent can't."

Sokka stopped fiddling with the lights and mixing up his dilutions in the beakers. "You've strong feelings about this don't you."

Zuko's mouth twisted inspite of himself. "Azula was always the _talented_ one. Of course, she worked hard to be as incredible as she is, but things came to her naturally. She didn't have to train and train and train until she needed a soak in an ice bath every night. I on the other hand drove my father to despair. It was only after uncle stepped in and started working with me when I was older that I really started getting somewhere." He unclenched his teeth with concerted effort. "So yeah, talent or no, it really _is_ about picking a skill and sticking with it, no matter what."

Sokka's piercing gaze lingered on him a little too long before he turned back to weighing out his albumin powder.

"Fine, I'll give you that one. But put someone with a natural flair for the thing _plus_ training, up against somebody who's just worked like a dog, and the talented one will win."

Zuko scrubbed at his face, a sudden wave of deep weariness washing over him. "For my sake, I better hope that's not entirely true because otherwise I don't stand a chance against Azula."

Sokka was quiet for long enough that Zuko finally looked up. He was frowning as he dropped magnetic stirrers into his beakers, forming tiny whirlpools in the solutions as they churned. The way they spun, catching the light of the lamp like spools of molten gold was almost hypnotic.

"I'm not going to say that we've got nothing to worry about," Sokka said carefully, "but you're no slouch in the beating-people-up department yourself, Zuko. A little faith could go a long way." He still wasn't looking at Zuko, staring resolutely at his mixing solutions. The cheerful yellow light of the lamp caught Sokka at an angle, deepening the shadows of the hollows of his eyes, under his cheeks, and brought out the copper tint of his skin. He was just as fascinating to look at as the whirlpools.

"What are you working on ?" Zuko asked eventually, his awkwardness overtaken by his curiosity at the array of instruments that spread starburst-like outwards from the epicenter that was Sokka. There was even what appeared to be a highend video camera set up on the next table.

It was as if Zuko had flipped a switch in Sokka. He brightened, sitting up straighter and glowing as if he'd swallowed a hundred watt bulb.

"Boomerangs !" Sokka enthused.

"Your thesis is on boomerangs?"

Sokka laughed. "Close enough. Boomerang colloids, actually." Zuko blinked. He'd never particularly enjoyed physics in highschool, but Zuko hadn't hated it either. However the terms Sokka was flinging around now were whizzing right over his head. "Technically, everything is a boomerang if you throw it up." Zuko blurted out and then immediately wished that he could swallow his own tongue. He was realising that Sokka tended to have that effect on him, making him speak without thinking.

But instead of laughing at him, the other boy only smiled fondly, an almost soft look on his face. "My advisor and I have a hypothesis that creating a colloid in the shape of a boomerang will cause it to behave in ways that don't conform to Einstein's theories."

He gestured towards his beaker full of albumin solution. "We're going to use those as my controls, while the star of the show will be a synthetic polymeric material, doused with water and then squished between two glass plates, thus allowing only for movements in two dimensions." He pointed to the fancy camera. "I'm going to use video microscopy to track its movements, and then repeat the process with different dimensions and variations of the boomerang shape in my polymers to see which one moves in a straight line the longest."

Zuko frowned. "But if it's boomerang shouldn't it come back after a point ?"

Sokka shook his head excitedly, apparently long deprived of a proper geek out session and thrilled to have an unsuspecting and captive audience.

"We found that for the first minute, my boomerangs moved in nearly a straight line along an axis bisecting their arms. After that, well, things became chaotic and the colloid moved randomly." Sokka waved a hand expansively, the way one did when explaining the behaviour of a gaggle of toddlers set loose on a jungle gym. "But that first minute of predictability- that's important for creating colloids that might be useful- directing the motion of medicinal colloids for example." He was practically bouncing at this point. "But what _I'm_ personally interested in, is creating materials that are able to assemble themselves. Stuff like that would be very useful for long term space projects."

Zuko nodded along as Sokka waxed lyrical about microparticles, and tried his best to look like he'd understood even 70% of what Sokka had just said.

"If I could just set up the electric field correctly..." Sokka trailed off, back to hooking up wires to anodes and cathodes.

Altogether, it was one of the most surreal evenings Zuko had ever spent, including that time Azula, Mai, Ty Lee and Zuko were packed off to Ember Island where the four of them had the strangest of heart to hearts, somewhere between Ty Lee giving him tips on skincare and Azula trashing a frat party.

And yet, it was also fun in a way Zuko hadn't experienced in forever amongst people his age. It was obvious that this was _Sokka's_ zone, the way the octagon was Zuko's. He'd switch between mumbling under his breath at Zuko and then mumbling at his experiment, statue-like stillness while working through a hitch, followed by bursts of frantic activity as he scribbled down readings, inputted them into his graphing software and then repeated the whole process multiple times. It was fascinating in the way watching one of those sped up videos of ants building a colony were.

Zuko for the most part was relegated to glorified lab assistant, doing everything from helping Sokka steady the camera to making a run down to the lobby for snacks from the vending machine when it became apparent that Sokka had lost all concept of appropriate mealtime.

When he got back, Sokka was muttering sweet nothings at LoggerPro. He was currently cooing endearments at it _,_ like " _Best fit, c'mon best fit please baby."_ It wasn't too long ago that Zuko had heard him whisper, "I demand to talk to your manager."

Which is why it took Zuko a second to place the sudden and intense feeling of apprehension that hit him the moment he stepped into the lab- the acrid smell of burning plastic was wafting towards him, and Sokka upwind of the odour had no idea that some part of his experiment was literally about to go up in flames.

The cans of peanuts he'd been carrying hit the floor as Zuko scrambled up the aisle of tables towards Sokka and the rest of his setup, trying to find the burning instrument before they had a full blown electrical fire on their hands. Sokka looked up from his laptop, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw Zuko barreling towards him just as one of the large chargers he had plugged in started smoking in earnest, dense noxious white fumes curling up from it. Sokka to his credit swung into action immediately, lunging to switch off the entire series of batteries connected. But some long buried memory from physics class told Zuko that the avalanche breakdown reaction had already taken place, and the charger was going to burn out anyway. So instead of leaving the thing to continue smoking and filling the lab with nasty fumes, he hopped over a couple of tables and grabbed the fire extinguisher off the wall, double timing it back. 

Sokka hadn't been idle- in the same strange way that they seemed to read each other's mind in the ring, Sokka had almost instantaneously understood what Zuko was doing without any words exchanged and had disconnected the other batteries in parallel, clearing the area around the defective charger of all equipment.

Zuko sprayed the smoking mess with foam, covering it until there were no more nasty fumes being released. Sokka was coughing by now, and he stumbled over to the wall and flicked on every exhaust fan in the room before gingerly picking up the foam-covered mess with a Vernier callipers and tossing it within the depths of a fume hood, shutting the thing tightly before turning it on.

"What do you say we take a little break, huh ?" He told Zuko, eyes watering, over the low roar of the fume hood.

* * *

They pass the lone can of peanuts they'd been able to locate under a table before the smell had gotten too bad back and forth as they sit outside on the floor of the corridor, nothing but a couple of 21st century peasants waiting for the lab to stop smelling like carcinogens and death.

Sokka thunked his head against the wall to their backs, dragging his hands down his face and groaning as he checked his watch. "It's like the entire universe is against me finishing my experiment," he lamented. "I've never even had so much as a spark burn before ! But _you_ ," he hit Zuko lightly in the chest, "you were- pardon the expression- on _fire_ back there!" Sokka grinned widely at him, quicksilver mood giving Zuko whiplash. "Seriously, it's amazing how calm you were. Most people who haven't worked in a lab before or been drilled to within an inch of their life on fire safety would've panicked and forgotten all about the extinguisher."

"You could say I'm kinda paranoid about fire safety." Zuko replied drolly, tilting his head towards Sokka so that his burn scar was thrown into prominence, and the grin dropped off Sokka's face.

"Wow, I did _not_ think that one through," Sokka started, chagrined, but Zuko cut him off. 

"It's nothing that you said. Azula was a little pyromaniac as a kid. After the time she set my Blue Spirit mask on fire _,_ while I was _still wearing it,_ I caught up on the basics of fire management pretty quick."

* * *

It never stopped surprising Sokka, how unexpectedly Zuko would drop a line about his past, and somehow what _should_ have just been harmless little facts would turn out just as unnerving as the previous one. Sokka shot a quick look at Zuko, checking to see if he was OK after bringing that up. Zuko was staring into the depths of the peanut can, looking a bit forlorn that it was over. With a jolt, Sokka realised the poor guy was most probably giving up his dinner to keep Sokka company.

Alright then.

As they lapsed into awkward silence, and Sokka wracked his brain for something, _anything_ to say, Zuko looked up suddenly. "Hey," he fidgeted with a loose thread on his cuff. "D'you know what's the deal with Aang and," Zuko scratched his nose, hesitating, "himinsistingoncallingmeHotman ?"

Sokka tried cleaning his ear canal. "Come again ?"

Zuko fidgeted some more. "Aang. The abnormally cheerful kid who you're friends with. Back when we'd worked out together, he'd kept saying _Flameo, Hotman!_ " Zuko did a feeble impression of jazz hands.

At Sokka's look of utter befuddlement, he mumbled,"It's been bothering me for years now."

Sokka was glad for his decent lung capacity because he was wheezing in record time as he listed sideways into Zuko, eyes streaming and a stitch in his side.

"Just thought you'd know what that was all about," Zuko grumbled before pushing himself off the ground and striding off to check if the lab was any less of an active biohazard zone, leaving Sokka to his slow demise from mirth on the floor.

After that, it was a lot easier to just talk about whatever popped into his head as they got busy cleaning up the mess and resetting the experiment.

They discussed their majors- Sokka rambled on merrily and Zuko listened quietly for the most part.

"I've just always liked school, I guess," Sokka shrugged as he started on a new batch of polymer solution. "And I got lucky to have an advisor as great as Teo's dad. All of this," he gestured to the lab in general, "wouldn't have been possible if he didn't allow me the freedom he does. It's why I'm even able to work on my thesis in junior year itself."

Zuko was quieter than usual as he adjusted the camera. Sokka got the sense that he was working up to say something difficult, and waited. "School...wasn't really my thing." Zuko said presently, a strong undertone of defensiveness threaded through his voice. "I was never any good at it. And that was before I had to drop out and get my GED." He yanked his hands back and stopped handling the camera after it creaked under his grip, settling for crossing his arms over his chest instead. A mocking, almost bitter smile twisted his lips. "When I got to university, even though my father had made it abundantly clear what he thought of me taking over the family business, I somehow still ended up picking my courses with running the gym in mind. Ended up with a major in BizAdmin." Zuko heaved a deep sigh."Maybe it was just wishful thinking, that I could go back someday." He looked at Sokka almost pleadingly, as if expecting Sokka to call him stupid for wishing that deep down.

There were so many questions Sokka wanted to ask Zuko about this.While he didn't seem particularly thrilled with his choice of major, Sokka figured that if Zuko had stuck with it so long, he didn't completely hate it either.

He limited himself to just the one."If you could re-choose your major, what would you pick now ?"

Zuko leaned back against the table and frowned, clearly taken aback by the question. He took his time coming to an answer, and when he did it was given almost shyly. Hesitant in a way Sokka had never seen Zuko before now. 

"Maybe theatre. Film studies, I don't know." He smiled a little wistfully. "When I was little, my mom would take me out to watch so many plays, everything from big budget productions to even just street plays around the block. She'd been a stage actress before she married my father, and even though she didn't perform by the time she had Azula and me, she never stopped loving the theatre." 

Sokka didn't miss the way Zuko never used the word _retired_ , as if it hadn't been her own choice to stop performing. Zuko scowled. "I'd probably be terrible at it though, so it's a good thing I'm studying how to potentially _run_ a theatre rather than act in it." Sokka knew Zuko's mom was a sore subject, especially her absence from his life once he was older. On the single previous occasion that she'd come up in conversation, Zuko had only said that she'd _been gone a few years._ Sokka knew not to pry for any more details, even to clarify what _gone_ meant exactly. "Don't worry," he tells Zuko instead,"I'd still come to watch you perform, even if just to collect the free tomatoes off the stage at the end of your act." Sokka chuckled at the patent bitch face he received in response. He decided that he'd ribbed Zuko enough for one topic of conversation. Time for a subject change. "So, when you aren't beating up people or brooding in a corner what d'you do for fun ?" 

Zuko levelled a flat look at him. "Nothing."

"We gotta work on that man," Sokka shook his head, tossing Zuko the object he'd been tinkering with in breaks between graphing his readings. Sokka had held onto the peanut can they'd finished outside and securely taped a loose, long spring to the outer surface of its bottom. It wobbled crazily as Zuko tried to keep the slinky-like spring from flopping out of his hands. 

"Why ?" Zuko demanded of Sokka specifically and the universe at large, some combination of resigned and baffled.

Sokka sent him a lazy grin. "That's for you. A toy. 'Cause all work and no play-"

"I don't want this," Zuko interrupted loudly, shaking the spring for emphasis, only to be cut off by, in Sokka's humble opinion, the _grooviest_ of sounds. Taken aback, he gave the spring another experimental wiggle, and once more it produced a series of noises which made it sound like a 21 laser gun salute.

Sokka had his chin resting on his interlocked fingers, smug smile firmly in place as he watched Zuko be corrupted by _Fun_. Zuko couldn't help himself- he gave the spring another shake, absolutely fascinated by the sounds the cobbled-together little toy was making. 

"If you don't want it, I can take it back," Sokka smirked at Zuko, purposely throwing back his words from much earlier in the evening.

Zuko hugged the thing a little tighter to his chest.

* * *

It was nearing 10pm when Sokka dropped his head into his arms pillowed on the table and admitted defeat.

"These stupid, wonky readings just won't graph coherently," he mumbled. 

"Ah," said Zuko, contributing valuably to the conversation. That didn't bother Sokka in the least, he was already on a roll. "I mean, realistically I'd never expected a perfect set of readings on the first go, but I'd hoped that _atleast_ the overall design was fine."

"And it isn't ?" Zuko ventured carefully from his perch two tables over, where he'd been failing to not play with the pocket laser machine.

Sokka merely looked up at Zuko like he'd been told that bacon was being cancelled. This wasn't the first time (and certainly wasn't going to be the last) Zuko had seen Sokka look dejected. However, Zuko's usual solution of pushing Sokka even harder like he did while they trained was, sadly, not applicable in this instance. What Sokka clearly needed was _encouragement_. Zuko was fresh out of encouragement. Ugh. This sort of stuff was his uncle's forte. Zuko eyed his laser machine and decided to try anyway.

He cleared his throat, closed his eyes and began channelling his inner Iroh. This would have worked a lot better if he had a steaming kettle on hand. "Sometimes, clouds have two sides- a dark and light, and a silver lining in between." He opened his eyes a crack to see Sokka looking at him as if considering whether Zuko was in imminent need of an exorcism. "It's like a silver sandwich!" Zuko insisted. "So, when life seems hard...take a bite out of the silver sandwich." There, that wasn't so terrible.

Sokka was still looking at him funny, but he'd also started scribbling down something on a scrap of paper, the familiar look of starving genius back on his face as he muttered feverishly to himself. After about a minute of writing, crossing out and rewriting a bunch of stuff, he held up the paper in delight. "Maybe I haven't failed after all," he mumbled, almost in disbelief.

Zuko laughed, incredulous.

"That's the spirit! I can't believe that worked. I didn't even know what I was saying."

Sokka shook his head absently at him."What you said made no sense at all. But, all that talk about sandwiches did two things. It made me realise that if I can use _two_ polymers instead of the one, sandwiching my colloid between the layers…" Zuko completely lost track of what Sokka was talking about after that, content to just listen to him ramble and scribble down more notes intermittently.

Presently, he asked, "What was the second thing ?"

"Huh ?" Sokka looked up, pulled out of his zone temporarily. 

"You said the sandwich thing reminded you of two things. What was the second ?"

"Oh!" Sokka straightened up. "Right. Sandwiches." He checked his watch and frowned. "You've missed dinner, man. You should head home." Sokka chuckled a bit sheepishly. "I'm honestly just procrastinating on coming back and working on this another day. Because even stupid, wonky readings are better than having to fix dinner for myself once I get back home. But that's a Sokka problem. Plus, since you've helped me with my big breakthrough," he flapped his sheet of calculations, "it'll be a lot easier next time. Seriously, you've gotta be starving." He clutched at his belly even as he squinted at Zuko. "I know _I_ am. At this point, I'd settle for my grandma's homemade jerky, even if it's like chowing down straight leather." Sokka unspooled a length of solder wire and tapped it to the point of his soldering iron as he made some last minute adjustments to his PC board. "So much of being an adult revolves around having to feed yourself. It's fucking exhausting, man. I love food, but having to cook it for myself day in day out, that just kills the magic."

Zuko watched the thin spiral of smoke that curled up from the PC board. He _was_ sort of hungry, but Sokka tended to make him lose track of small stuff like that.

"Maybe now's not the time to complain about my uncle's cooking." Zuko grimaced, a tad sheepish.

Sokka tuned around, affronted. "Oh c'mon, if that man's cooking is even half as good as his tea brewing, it _can't_ be that bad. And even if it was, at least you _got_ something more than 3 day old takeout and leftovers from the dining room to look forward to." Sokka had put down the iron in favour of shooting him a semi-incredulous look. "You, my friend, are living like a prince." 

Zuko made a face. "Sometimes, I wish I could live on the tea alone."

Sokka blinked. "Er, you help run a tea shop, where you brew the tea, serve the tea and then take inventory of the tea, and then you go back home where you drink yet some more tea. Don't you ever get sick of tea ?"

" _Sick of tea ? That's like being sick of breathing,_ " Zuko told him gloomily, in a perfect imitation of Iroh's voice. 

Sokka snorted a laugh as he finally stood up and cracked his back.

"So I'm guessing you won't leave until I do," he smiled warmly at Zuko. 

"Caught on quick, didn't you ?" Zuko raised an eyebrow. Sokka shook his head in fond exasperation. "Ok, ok, just let me clear the worst of this up and we can get out of here."

They got to work dismantling the components of the experiment and replacing instruments. 

"You know, this sort of reminds me of my first girlfriend." Sokka hummed contentedly as reshelved things at top speed.

Zuko coughed. "I remind you of your _girlfriend_ ?"

"No! I mean, yes! Sort of- argh." Sokka broke out into helpless laughter. "What I'm saying is, that I'd hang around and wait with her until she'd get done in the lab, and I'd help her clear up too."

"Oh." Zuko scratched the back of his neck. "Well, how come she wasn't around while you were sick ? Help you out a little ?"

Sokka shook his head glumly. "Yue isn't here anymore." 

At Zuko's look of polite consternation over whether to condole or clarify if he just meant a bad breakup, Sokka elaborated, "Yeah, she went to the moon." He shrugged a little sadly. "You never forget your first love and all that."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Zuko told him, mortified at the direction their conversation had taken.

"No!" Sokka yelped, "I mean Yue's _literally_ gone to the moon, she's not dead or anything," he flailed. "She's a few years older than me and we broke up when she graduated and joined NASA. Like, there's long distance, and then there's the _International Space Station_. And last I heard, she was part of the crew to do a moonwalk, so yeah, that happened." Sokka rubbed the back of his head and sighed.

Zuko patted Sokka on the arm as they replaced the last beaker. "That's rough, buddy." 

* * *

Zuko's still smiling when he gets back to the apartment that night, earlier than from training or a match, but still late. Late enough, that his uncle who _should_ have been sound asleep in his bed, as usual had instead fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Zuko.

He'd been quiet enough getting in that he hadn't woken Iroh, and now Zuko took a moment to really look at his uncle. He noted how Iroh's long hair had more silver in it now than even a year ago, the way the deep crow's feet around his eyes refused to leave his face without some trace of laughter even in his sleep. The ever present cup of tea was cool and empty on the low coffee table, and he was swept up by an overwhelming wave of affection for the old man.

Although they were blood brothers, it wouldn't have been anyone's first guess that Ozai and Iroh were related in any way. There was a significant age gap between the two, but Iroh had found love later in life and hence Lu had only been ten years older than Zuko. Iroh had travelled extensively in his youth, training at dojos all over the country and some even abroad. "We can learn something new from everyone we meet, if we're willing to," he would to say. But wisdom and fortune cookie worthy quotes weren't the only bits of knowledge he'd come back with. 

Zuko found himself quietly humming _Four Seasons of Love_ as he cleared the cup from the table and rinsed it out in the kitchen sink, a pervasive sense of buoyancy stealing over him after his evening with Sokka. The grin still hasn't left his face. His cheek muscles weren't used to the exercise.

"Now all we need is a Tsungi horn, and then we can take this show on the road !" Iroh clapped softly from the doorway, and Zuko fumbled the cup, nearly dropping it.

"People would probably be paying me to stop playing." Zuko snorted.

"Patience, young grasshopper. And practice, lots of practice." Iroh intoned serenely and Zuko laughed. "We need to find you your own catchphrase uncle. You're cooler than Master Po to be borrowing his." Zuko pulled himself up onto the kitchen counter and got comfortable.

Iroh faux gasped. "I wouldn't claim something like that outside of these four walls." He winked conspiratorially at Zuko. "Thank you, my boy. Though I believe in terms of coolness, Yip Man had to walk so that Po, Mr.Miyagi and everyone after him could run."

"Hey, Enter the Dragon- _of the West,_ is actually pretty good, even if it's not exactly a catchphrase per se."

"You know I gave up any right to use that moniker when I hung up my gloves for good." Iroh shook his head, a tad rueful.

"And yet nobody can hope to be a greater fighter or teacher than you." Zuko told him fiercely.

Iroh remained silent, but Zuko had to look away from the deep fondness of his uncle's gaze that rested upon him.

Iroh cleared his throat after a minute of silence stretching between them. "You left the shop so quickly after your shift. I trust you had a _nice_ evening ?" He waggled his eyebrows for good measure, and Zuko groaned out loud at the implication.

"I swear, it wasn't a _date_ , uncle. I literally spend all my time in class, at the shop or at the gym."

The laser machine in his hoodie pocket chose that moment to tumble out and clatter to the floor, rolling about wildly. It came to a stop exactly midway between the two of them.

Iroh raised an eyebrow.

Zuko hopped off the counter and picked it up, demonstrating how it worked to Iroh. His uncle looked delighted. "Whoever gave you that, they're a keeper."

Zuko snorted. " _Sokka_ made it for me. When I hung out with him at the university lab today evening and he worked on his thesis project. On what was most assuredly _not a date._ "

"The young man who's your partner at the tournament, that Sokka?"

"How many Sokka's do we know ?" Zuko countered irritably, uncomfortable with Sozin's being brought up. Iroh sensing his discomfort bustled over to the fridge, and pulled out Zuko's dinner. "Why don't you tell me about your evening," he smiled apologetically as he stuck the plate in the microwave and set it to heat.

Zuko watched the food spin slowly as it warmed."So, what do you know about boomerang colloids ?"

Altogether, it's one of the most peaceful nights Zuko's had in a long time. He hadn't realised until now how much he'd missed just hanging out with his uncle, talking about nothing in particular while they enjoyed each other's company. 

And when he stopped to examine why happy evenings like this had gotten rarer of late, Zuko knew it was because he'd been subconsciously training harder, spending longer and longer hours at the gym _months_ before he'd received Azula's invitation. Regularly pushing himself to the point of exhaustion and often beyond it, so that he could continue to outrun the bad dreams even in his sleep. He'd been preparing for battle long before he'd even known he'd pick up the gauntlet. 

Zuko ignored the tightening in his chest at that realisation. All the more proof that this was what he _had_ to do.

Iroh was still laughing at something Zuko had said earlier, his moment of discomfort mercifully unnoticed.

"Ah, thank you for your company my boy, but I'm going to turn in for the night." Iroh gave the laser machine another vigorous wiggle and grinned at the space battle noises it made.

He got to his feet and stretched out his back, yawning as he made his way to his room. Iroh paused at the doorway and turned to Zuko still sprawled bonelessly on the sofa.

"Next time you go on a date though nephew, let me do your hair. I assure you, your paramore will leave you with something even better than a toy at the end of the evening." He guffawed, ducking when a cushion sailed over his head.

* * *

Zuko is slammed into wakefulness, head pounding in time with his pulse and his breath a shallow rattle in his chest.

He leaned back against the headboard for a moment, working on getting his heart to calm down. The darkness wasn't disorienting anymore after the tenth, the hundredth, the thousandth time he'd woken up wrapped in it. 

But even after his breathing had reached the steady pace of meditation, the inside of his head was still awash with fractured images from his dream, persistent in a way they hadn't been for a while.

Zuko, eleven and helpless again.

Lu Ten in the cage, down on the floor and weakly raising his arms with the last of his strength to protect his face against the repeated blows to it.

The faceless opponent sitting on his chest, landing hit after hit after hit.

Iroh desperately hailing the referee, begging everyone, _anyone_ to stop the fight. Iroh taking a running leap onto the mesh and landing just above the low wall of flame, beginning to scale it and get into the cage himself, only to be dragged back down.

Zuko had been distracted from Lu Ten on the floor by his uncle's struggle, except when he'd looked back again, it wasn't Lu lying there beaten and bloody.

Zuko shoved himself out of bed, roughly pulling on his clothes and silently letting himself out of the house into the grey light of predawn. But no matter how fast he sprints around the block, wind tearing at his hair, no matter how hard the breath saws in his lungs, Zuko can't outrun the vision of Sokka laying broken and half-dead on the floor of the cage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia:
> 
> Sokka's boomerang colloid thesis -  
> https://www.google.com/amp/s/phys.org/news/2013-10-boomerang-colloid-conform-brownian-motion.amp
> 
> Pocket laser machine ! https://youtu.be/qNvk93WCk80
> 
> Yip Man was one of Bruce Lee's earliest and most influential teachers while he lived and practiced martial arts in Hong Kong.  
> Master Po (the human, not the panda) was one of the Shaolin monks who doubled as Kwai Chang Caine's teachers in Kung Fu, that 70’s East-meets-(Wild Wild) West show.


End file.
